The National plays while we pack. Tomorrow’s an early start before the madness begins.
We’ve got everything covered. The fine balance between taking too much shit and taking too little.
J-Rab sits curled in the couch opposite me, looking through the pictures on her phone while I bang this out, , both of us tired from a long week and looking forward to that sublime moment when we hit the lights, curl up and sleep like the dead.
In the beaches of our dreams, the days are always sunny and clear and the water’s always fine. We meet there sometimes and watch tropical birds fly overhead and listen to the lazy sound of the ocean lapping the shore.