Remember.....

A Section of The Quiet Man

Wide horizons. Long cool marble floors, flat and smooth. Half covered in drifts of fine white sand. The projecting remains of rows of marble pillars pink in a desert twilight. The edge of a red sun going down behind distant hills. Warm breeze from the sea behind me. One star glimmering in the sky. A message coming in faintly as I stand watching..... some other memory perhaps. The light takes many thousands of years to arrive. The star is no longer there. A few thousand years form now someone will stand here and see it quietly wink out in the twilight.

In the rosy light I return to a secret doorway hidden by a wall of leaves. This leads down a long rusty iron corridor through other times into my room. Long white voile curtains blowing in a dazzle of early morning sunlight. Rooks caw in the trees outside. Banks of white flowers against big guilded mirrors. My co-ordination is not good. Moments clumsy. I realise that I am exhausted. My mind is blurred with many impressions of foreign cities and landscapes. I see in the mirror that I am very thin now, and haggard. My eyes are clear grey and they seem unnaturally bright in the taut face. The skin is weathered, the hair bleached as if by long exposure to the sun. Reflection of my strange figure surrounded by white flowers. Old, so old now ......an old man.

I lean forward to examine some small scars that I don't remember. One small wound above my eyebrow has a softly flowing iridescent edge. It gives me no pain though, and as I gingerly touch it, I see that my fingernails are long and have dirt underneath them. My clothes are very worn and faded as if from years of travelling in all weathers. I catch my own smell compounded of dried sea water, wood smoke, pine needles and bracken. As I begin to strip off the ragged clothes, I find that some of the layers next to my skin are so decayed that they shred and stick ot my body. An ammoniac smell rises from the ruins of fabric, and I notice many leaves and bits of dried grass caught between the folds.

The skin beneath is white and flaky and has the odor of healing flesh exposed after a long time under bandages. I see that there are heavy dust marks around my ankles and wrists. It is a great relief to get out of those clothes. I feel lighter and cleaner. The air is so cool and fresh on my skin. I pick off some remaining shreds of fabric and leaves then I step into the beautiful marble pool that comes in through one open wall of the room. Waterlilies float on the surface in golden sunlight. Smell of lost flowers and waterways. The water is a perfect temperature, and as I push the floating leaves away I can feel the fish flicking by my body. My every movement rveals aching muscles. I go under the surface. Sighing as the weariness drops away. Of course I can breathe the water. I feel a great lightness and joy as I strike out into a slying position, swimming away as hard as I can, circling, diving, whirling in pure delight.

After a time I begin to itch all over. Gradually the itching becomes more intense. Then as I scratch I see, frighteningly, that my skin at first loosens and then comes floating away, unfurling in ragged translucent streamers. Even my hair begins to come off in thick pieces. I can not stop though because the itching has become so intense and the scratching is so exquisitely gratifying. So I continue with rising excitement and pleasure to loosen my entire skin until I can kick free of its irritating surface, leaving the discarded sheath to fall away through the blue depths behind me. As I swim away a delicious langour spreads through my body. I allow myself to drift, to rise towards the sunlit surface. I feel as if I am dissolving, diffusing into the gold blue of the water, the flowers, the sunlight, the movements of the air.

There are many voices in the water. Many sounds and long rhythms that are all a part of its colour and substance and mass. The light refracted inside it glows and flickers softly with every movement. It is a sensitive, responsive medium. Divisions dissolve. My body fragments into voices, water, lilies, sunlight scent, mirrors, singing waterways. Endless reflections, music, floating layers of impressions of cities, rooms, golden fragments of voices, faces, conversations, gestues, buildings, pathways, streets, fallen blossom blowing, voices speaking, squalling caged birds with bright feathers, animals, children, sharp stink of urine in stone courtyards under fig trees, vines, flowers on balconies, warm moist air by the waterways. Sweat and booze and bodies crowded into noisy bars. Above on the balcony her beautiful body spread on the great bed. Hair streaming on the shores of that sea "This is the last chance.....you will remember me as a voice, all this will take many years......"

Golden fragments - out of focus. Spread on the great bed beautiful hair streaming voice in my heart, drowning in her light. The red laugh. That simple gesture. Not quite erased. Slightly drunk now, ranging over past lives. Cooler after the rain. Tropical dusk. Going out into the fine marble piazza. Dinner in the square. White table cloths. Strawberries. Dry cold wine in tall glasses. White fish. Salad, bread, watermelon, streams of people passing. Her floating dress. Wind from the sea. Strings of lights. My voice coming back through decaying alleyways....."This is a long way to go".....Luminous sea. Strolling just strolling. Through someone else's memories. Walking in the dust of many road, many cities.....some way to feed from others. An Englishman of course. The aristocratic accent and bearing faintly ridiculous considering the circumstances. Ragged suit. He has come a long way. Carefully designing his sentences, his manner.

"Some day I will be here". her face caught in that moment. Stay with me forever. Up to the surface.....The discrded skin falling away in the pale distance.....spinning slowly.....voices of light.....A faint message.....falling star.....up to the surface.....voices on a golden wind..... It is dark when I finally climb out of the pool. A warm evening. People strolling in the town square below. Faint smell of cooking on the air. Later I will go out to eat and find some new friends. A red sun is going down behind blue distant hills. One star in the evening sky..........Remember?

I stand out on the balcony dripping and naked. Young again, nineteen again. Tears fill my eyes. A great heavy sob tears my throat. One star is missing from the deepening blue sky. I remember..........I remember..........the last light. Already gone.