Friday, 24 January 2014

Igloo

Sooner or later, I ended up living in an igloo. It was the attic windows first, besotted with white powder. It was the roof. I didn’t do anything to stop the snow from falling, and sooner or later I was covered.

It was cosy and dark in the igloo. White powder blocking out the sun. Snow insulating the walls. I learned a lot about contradictions. I gave up on just about everything I knew.

The year so far had been strange and I was feeling the onslaught of innuit delirium. Ready to pace into an endless tundra, leave all my babies to the wolves. I was feeling restless but I could barely be bothered to move.

Wouldn’t you like to get away, whispered the fish, and I could understand their point. The fish were frozen in blocks of ice and had none of the options spread out in front of me. The fish were waiting for bears.

Still, in the cosy, dark igloo, it was almost impossible to feel decisive. I drank warm coffee and exhaled on my fingers. I thought about a boy, a girl, a canal, a kiss. I thought about cutting holes in the ice. I thought if I just sat still for long enough, the decision would no longer be mine.

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