Duncan Vickers
Stories (1/0)
The Bridge
The ebbing and flowing of the river below has always succeeded, in harmonising with the speeding cars on the bridge above, to clear my mind. There is nothing like walking with your own thoughts along the river's edge, stopping and staring out; searching for answers. Though the questions are never words, but emptiness, the kind of emptiness you feel as a kid when you realised that something you once believed was no longer true, like when you found out that Santa wasn’t real. It’s not that you didn’t know already but that that little possibility, that one percent, has vanished never to return, that little part of your consciousness died. I think that’s why I stare out at the water, hoping that in its unfathomable depth or within the vastness of its oceans, it may return something to me that has been long lost. Like a sailor’s family hoping against hope to see them on the horizon, but they never do.
By Duncan Vickers6 years ago in Psyche