Hobo

Arthur was tired. Between the greyness of the November sky and the rough dirty brown surf of the North Sea he stood alone contemplating the unfairness of what life had become.

“The final war for the coming of the light is now here Caroline, it has started silently inside the inner consciousness of all mankind, you have just been waiting like so many others."

It went quickly Faster with each introspective thought The nineties

He was safe, safe to the point that he didn’t even have to think about it, he just knew. He wanted to stay here but somewhere in his conscience he was aware that it would change.

She painted delicately he thought, her eyes tender with timidly engaging concentration and her hand shaking each time she dabbed away his tears. He couldn’t be sad anymore, she had seen to that.

Though all is different And I am older now And each day I ask why Why my love cannot die

At the top of the cliffs and to our right we could just see the great and mighty peaks of Masada. The place that history defines as a place of blood.

Some things seemed to bear relation to what was in the imagination. The sounds of the wind, the colors of the sky, the smell of the ocean.

I found out that she had flown to Israel while under the influence of cocaine. She confided this to me later, after she felt she could trust me.