contact: corneliuszg@googlemail.com

So… that’s how we ended up in the caravan…

We moved out.

Eddie’s attacks got too much and we moved out into his front yard.  In the caravan.

The caravan in the photo – the photo that Talx ZG sent to me.

Our home – from last March to about now…

caravan

I mean it cramped and tight and uncomfortable… but you know at least no one is attacking me.  Whole days can go by  suffering any acts of violence…

Whole days.

Or months…

Can just slip by.

Memory

The thing is… how much do I remember of my past.

I mean really.   Of my own life.  I can go over the past decade just fine… since I’ve been an adult it is all there and all my little stories stand up of their own accord – my own micro history… my personal narrative holds up but then if I push back further… into my childhood… well there just isn’t much there… much distinction to my past.

When I used to talk about family with Lucinda, no when Lucinda used to talk about family with me, all her recollections were so pin point – so precise.  Her life with her mother, the time they spent in Australia, her father… I mean I didn’t get a lot of this but when I did it was all there.  The colours and sounds and smells seemed to be so real to her.

fuzzy tiger

With me… well its just all an amorphous mass… my childhood is a featureless blob.

Maybe nothing of interest ever happened to me.

I was the golden child – the great hope – I left home – and then, well, and then I was a let down.

Not much of a story.

At least I haven’t got “All Coppers Are Bastards” tattooed to my lips.

Episode 3 Part 1

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Travis' Barn

Travis' Barn

 
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Mirrors

mirrors

Travis and I found the mirrors – hidden behind a housing estate.

We parked up outside and walked across the flat grass land – Travis had seen them on the telly – on ‘Coast’ – a while back and we were drawn to them… something about them… standing there behind a housing estate, decaying and useless – a world of surveillance – an outdated world of surveillance.

Something about them touched me.

I more simple world where people could be paid to listen to nothingness all day.

We parked up and crossed a flat-land to get to them and they were there… at once disappointing… small… lost against the open sky they so feebly montiored… and impressive… for all the reasons above.

We stood there – divided from them by short stretch of water – Travis wanted to cross but I was covered in sufficient open wounds delivered by my house mate to think better of it – and he spoke to me.

“Memory, that’s what it all comes down to with us. Think about it, Cornelius, it’s about memory with everyone.  Eddie – he doesn’t have any.  Barney – what are his memories, I mean, how do they differ from reality… we used to think a lot but now we don’t know.  Lucinda…”

“Yeah, Lucinda…” I’d been getting a bit touchie on that one of late… you know with all the not hearing from her and the regular beatings and the messages to Josh… I digress.

He looked at me.

“How much do you trust of her – of the digressionbetween what she remembers and what you remember and what is real?

“Everything. I have to.  Otherwise the whole tower of cards comes collapsing down.”

“Hmmmmm.  And my memory.  There’s a lot I don’t… about myself.  There are holes… big holes in my past… looks at this.”

And he looked at me and pulled down his lower lip and written, no tattooed in blue ink across his curled down lower lip were the letters… ACAB.

ACAB?  What’s that mean?”

“Look it up.”

And he left me there.  Wondering about him.  Again. Yeah… no answers here… not yet… from where I’m writing this from there will be.

Anyway, I followed him, back to the car.  Travis is waiting in it.  The woman whose house we were parked outside is snarling at us – the streets are empty but we’ve taken her parking place.  The streets are empty – no one for miles – but in that moment she hates us for this…

I take my time opening the car door, taking off my jacket… winding her up… taking pleasure in her impotent, pointless fury… and a kid across the street pops his head over a garden wall.  Jug eared and toothy like some ’70s throwback… he looks at me keenly…

“What you doing Mister?”

“I’ve forgotten”, I reply.

I get into the car and drive off.