i sit here at my control station, high above the rest of the world, imaginary and otherwise. sea-struck, sea-mad. the rages, the waves, the calm, the glassy. the hues of blue, black, green, grey. i often think, my idea of a perfect holiday, is snoozing in a hammock by the sea, sipping some fancy fruit juice in a curvy cup with one of them little paper umbrellas. and when i’ve got the little rivets in my flesh from being in the hammock and had my sleepful, i’ll run and dive off a wooden deck into the sea, head first.
gloomy mondays were made for day dreams.