Digital Ischemia

08/04/2012

March

Filed under: Jalopy — Teepwriter @ 16:03

Between descending layers and greys of cloud and drab, half-lit land, a sharp strip of monochrome hills detail.  Just the two of us between the land and sky, again.

A few questions remain.
“For a start, how did you get all that kit into a cave with a three feet wide opening, five miles into nowhere?”  You wonder if your petulance is endearing.
“Same way I got the car out.”  Nicol doesn’t mean to be smug; he just isn’t naturally open.

“Why here?”
“My uncle didn’t like me.”  Nicol is not one bit self-sorry.  “His final attempt to mould me into something worthwhile was to leave me his land.”  He gazes over the moor with brimming love and not a shred of ownership.  “I may make something useful yet.”

“Why?”  Your word doesn’t come close to encapsulating your wonder about the creative imperative.
“Being disconnected from nature, I can’t rest; it makes me so uneasy.  Everyone seems in a haze of denial.”

“I would think you could start the leverage with the price of petrol.”
“Indeed, and then the health impacts, and the wasted time, and eventually maybe they’ll realised we’re polluting our home.”

“We’re animals shitting in our food.”  Clearly you haven’t cracked the art of metaphor.  Nicol smirks at you, still processing at a deeper level.
“Aye and we know so much better.  Think what we could do if we just raise up our heads.”

More than he’s said in twelve months.  You propel your eyes to each landscape feature in turn, grasping for continuance.
“What did you do before your uncle died?”
Nicol nods to the sky and smirks.  “You’re the first to ask.”
You nod slowly, so carefully reeling in the answer.
“Everyone else knows already,” he finishes.

Your expulsion of an impatient, irritated lungful is audible.

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