Saturday I was helping some friends move house, this one is about that experience, though it has been embellished somewhat. There is no nefarious organization based in Kiapoi that I am part of, incase you were wondering

The fog

Fog was stratified, almost like layers of mud at the bottom of a stagnant tributary of the Kiapoi river, which slipped by underneath. The conditions were ideal, the fog, so thick as it hung there, motionless in the dawn would hide even someone as conspicuous as Wally Behan that Sunday evening (he was wearing a bright orangey shirt with a pinkish tinge) from the most inquisitive eyes. Eventually, the cargo accumulated in the hold of the barge and as the fog lifted, at last they set off downstream, wary of the other river people who were going about their business, oblivious of the audacious heist that was in progress.

This is an extract from a letter that I sent to my brother Andrew when he was in the states. I will be writing some new things later but for now, while I am trying this technology out, it will have to do. I hope you like it anyway.

The Deluge

The scrawling script, meaning filled and yet uninterpretable like the innumerable Egyptian hieroglyphs before the unearthing of the Rosetta stone, extending over the whole dark wall of smudgy blackness. The sound of rapid scraping punctuated every now and then by an exclamation of annoyance, terror, grief, diffused throughout the chalk dust that was settling, filling the cavernous room with a quiet determination, the will to triumph, the resolve to conquer. The Mathematical Scholar, mentally exhausted from his efforts, but no less determined to complete the task, reluctantly decides to have a brief respite, and reaches for what has become so often a source of inspiration (apart from his copy of the inerrant Holy writ). As he retrieves his pick from the inner recesses of his pocket, he uses his cognitive powers to ascertain the correct song for his mood. Settling on "flood" the edgy tones pierce the compound as he emphatically strums, plunging their way into the collective consciousness of those for whom it had been preordained to hear that frustrated sound.