Vintage Reject: October 2014

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He had been to the moon and escaped, he had become free. His spirit had become stardust and joined the universe in a chorus of cherubs. He had seen distant marble planets. He had beaten the ‘dirty commi’s’ and he was a hero. He had seen a shooting rock covered in other escaped souls. He looked at Earth; it was the colour of the sea, the day he lay on the sand. It was the colour of the costumes of the dancing women in the café he had been scouted in. He rolled on the sandy surface of the Moon. He closed his eyes, cerulean blue filled the space where his entrapped being had once cried.

29.10.14

The A-Z of Slang

14.10.14

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