Stalkers 2003, 21″ x 34″ acrylic on board

The fan buzzes on, an annoyance that barely reaches my consciousness today. Time flies, but to where I have no clue, just fragmented bitter-sweet memories of the the smiles we exchanged yesterday. This room seems smaller today, perhaps it’s my over active imagination, perhaps it’s the walls closing in. I write my sentence, another word [...]]]> The fan buzzes on, an annoyance that barely reaches my consciousness today. Time flies, but to where I have no clue, just fragmented bitter-sweet memories of the the smiles we exchanged yesterday. This room seems smaller today, perhaps it’s my over active imagination, perhaps it’s the walls closing in. I write my sentence, another word follows the last, but my feelings are somewhere else. Inside my head, under my bed, it’s all elementary I guess.

(June 2004)

Four weeks had passed with no hint of reconciliation or compromise, rainbow smiles turned overcast, as the last laugh if the laughter echoed on. We stood their absolutely alone in a state of unmistakable contemplation as rain washed away happier memories, just as we needed them the most. I’ll never forget that look of utter [...]]]> Four weeks had passed with no hint of reconciliation or compromise, rainbow smiles turned overcast, as the last laugh if the laughter echoed on. We stood their absolutely alone in a state of unmistakable contemplation as rain washed away happier memories, just as we needed them the most. I’ll never forget that look of utter desperation embedded deep within your eyes. feelings of separation as my heart seemed to sink further into a dark ocean, improbably magnetised, irrevocably sensitised. Perhaps days had passed but time stood frozen, locked safely inside our sacred red box of memories. Raindrops hung suspended, as photographs faded past like a valentines slide-show stuck on repeat. I watched on as visual integration with a touch of delicate imagination flickered inscribed keys inside my mind. Without thought or hesitation, yet unconsciously understated, I uttered softly the most perfect of words, an instantaneous verbalisation laced with sincerity and undeniable empathy. The movie played on, as tear-drops fell onto your warm shoulder, a bond to remain forever unbroken, a bond to withstand the savages of time.

(Feb 2005)

Seven thirty four, I dream of you knocking at my door, Seven thirty five, I dream of taking you by surprise. Imagination never dies, Imagination never dies. Seven forty three, I dream of you and me, Seven thirty four, I dream of wooden floors. And don’t be surprised that the imagination never dies, and don’t be surprised, when we survive. I believe in [...]]]> Seven thirty four, I dream of you knocking at my door,
Seven thirty five, I dream of taking you by surprise.
Imagination never dies,
Imagination never dies.
Seven forty three, I dream of you and me,
Seven thirty four, I dream of wooden floors.
And don’t be surprised that the imagination never dies,
and don’t be surprised, when we survive.
I believe in an imagination that never dies,
I believe in a love that never dies.

(July 2005)