Description

THE MEMORY

“Today I recalled my first love (and some other obsessions), after finding our old vase.

When I was young, I wrote this parable about a pineapple who loves aliens. Only the very specific ones, though. His human partner wouldn’t like the way they brewed, and they couldn’t speak the same language. I guess nothing makes sense when you’re in love and hardly more important when you’re drunk.

The days that followed I went swimming so often. Sometimes it felt like waves of lavender carrying sleep, more often though it was the tides of gin and tonic that drowned it out.

There were always tears at the end, burning my cheek and salting my glass. But there is no end”