Granada airport 8th november ( 23)

Recent trials

The phone had rung deliberately, shrill and urgent, piercing her indecision, with the last batterings of a life that was closing. She knew that, as she had looked towards the forbidding monster, an ugly last century monstrous bakelite, that she had never liked. But lucka had, and Luka had chosen it, on some anniversary somewhere..Back when he had tried to carry all the things, that she could no longer bare to know, until finally, they had both decidedly broken.

The phone had continued to wail on and off like a hungry child; as she had tacked across the rich herring bone floors. French white oak. Imported; and still incessant and repeating, the phone had continued as she had picked up her cases, and walked out of her own front door. The keys she posted through the letterbox. A distraught luca would would find them later. He had loved her, in between all her absent spaces, and for a while she had loved him back, until today, not unlike an exit that opens too quickly, and without air or reason, she had breached towards the surface. To  crowded  sky, in abstract forms, low against brown and distant hills, even with the drone of the air port behind it. Whatever it was she recognised this place, as a place without restraint, without pretence. Just another somewhere moving in a new light. Shifting her bags, a taxi, had approached, like on old man fumbling his way out of the now crowded taxi rank; “where to” he had said, as she had hopped onto the back seat of the car. in a strange growl that was so particular of these parts. For a while she had said nothing, distracted by the people on the side walk of the rank, struggling with luggage, whilst foraging for a mutually offered encompasing embrace; clumps of overcome distance mixed with the half familiar,like a pair of old loves, in a tight circle, and a small child. They were caught in some rudimentary procession, that she was unfamiliar with. The sorties of the connected. And so the driver had asked again, but this time, she had met his eyes, with the covering distance of her own, he had paused looking at her through the mirror, as if in semi doubt; before finally answering for her “ the centre”? And she so had assented not so much in words, but with something that this new place, unlike Luka, would immediately understand. And so he had pulled out into the burgeoning stream of others; she with her head still turned to watch the last of the reuniting family, just as the old man, jolly and brave had lifted up the small and squirming child, like a great papa bear pawing with a salmon. With one last glimpse she had watched them disappear; as the car snaked out fast now,in a new direction towards the new and distant city, with all it's histories that sit around  edges, things she knows she will have to face later. But now was only for the smooth soft momentum, of being capably carried, stretched out, and sunk comfortably back in her seat.. MB