Waiting for Ulysses

Sometimes, when there is silence, he creeps in. Shows up unexpected in the dead of night. When I least expect it. He came last night riding a tune by Ben Howard together with the image of a bamboo hut in Koh Pagnan. We sat there in the heat, smoking weed and eating Malaysian noodles from the supermarket. We didn’t care. They were spicy and hot and savoured them together. I would say we found this place by mistake. But actually, it called me. We drove the hills on a rented scooter, further and further till I spotted it, from the corner of my eye. The name is now lost and I couldn’t find it again if I tried. Tomorrow, I want you to take a photoshoot of me! I said. On the swing by the seashore. Waiting for Ulysses is the theme. And we burst out laughing. Our joy carried away by the wind.  It was dark. I can’t remember if for lack of electricity or because feeling each other’s presence was enough. Only the light on the cigarette wasting away. It was my birthday. My 28th.

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