In nine years I’ve lost my hair, developed a peanut allergy, worked seven different jobs, gone through a pandemic, said goodbye to my metabolism, been in three different relationships, been diagnosed with a lifelong disability, lost family, moved three times, and yet…
The Old Town in Portugal hasn’t changed one bit since I was last there. Every change in my life crumbled at the back of my mind as I sat by the statues of fishermen.
I always get this bad event sense. It tingles whilst I’m on a plane, train or automobile. It tells me something bad is going to happen. And sometimes it doesn’t. But when it does, well, my bad event sense was right, right? Two times out of ten, what a power I have.
I think life can often be like being inside a shopping mall. Or centre, but when you write mall just flows that much better. It’s a space that contains everything you need, but most of it ends up closed.
I don’t remember what used to be there. And the replacements are never guaranteed.
When all the characters jump into their spaceships and start blasting away at each other, it’s time to switch off.
Death Star trench run aside, I think it’s safe to say that there is nothing more boring than an epic space battle. Give it five to ten minutes and the shooting will finally stop, the crafts will land, and it’s time to wake up.
What did I miss? Just a few holes breached and a bit part character bit the dust. Until the next one.
Two tables slapped together isn’t always a great idea, especially when it comes to drink placement. I I watched my glass of wine come crashing down as I placed it on the uneven surface, unaware that the second table was lower. I watched, and the waiter watched. And I lost a lot on that uneven surface that day.