Who's That Venus...

At the sun’s too enthusiastic greeting I am transformed into a zombie with my urr-ing groans. My arms extend the bed’s blankets into wings to shield my baggaged eyes from the unwelcome light breaking through the hotels window. “Shut the curtains!” I barked towards my wickedly optimistic mother. Optimism, who needs to see the light of day when the darkness of night holds our dreams? “Rise and shine.” Who is she saying that too anyway? Me or the sun, because the sun has risen, and I am incapable of shinning. Last night’s tiresome adventure already has me grieved with Tasmania. Sun, why do you bother to reveal your face? Nobodies eyes can tolerate you anyway.

Well, here I am, Tasmania; famous for it’s salmon and double headed babies, that’s it. I had a friend who was of Tasmanian brood, and she far exceeded the strangeness of tales and warnings I’d been told to stir up terror within my restless mind. One of my inkiest secrets in fact is profoundly embedded within Tasmania’s history. A classified piece of information, that if revealed to those who recognised my existence, holds the potential to ruin the many onerous days spent building up a high perception of my persons origins. I may be no lizard-human hybrid, though I do contain an outlandish mix of loftiest royalty and lowliest savagery. For you see, I am an English man damned as Dr Jekyll to an uncivil state; this state, however, resides ever flowing within my veins, that of English and Tasmanian DNA. A juxtaposition of the polar opposite natures of the entire earth, order, and chaos. Despite my snobbery towards Tasmania, it genuinely is a ravishing spectacle that absorbs the eyes and restores them with an appreciation of allurement that was not present before their theft. The hours rippled along as our hired boat sailed across the freshwater lake. Neither my mother or I participated in the loathsome practice of fish trapping, yet for a reason that eludes my understanding, we decided to be guests on a, ‘FISHIN’ TOUR EXTRAVAGANZA!’ or at least that’s how the flyer pitched it. I’ll admit the gentle rise and fall of my environment and the warmth of the winter’s sun leaves an enchanting effect as my vison grows dark with wearied lids. Pure holiday bliss: this experience of Heaven proved worthy of the three-hour expedition it took to reach the dock, and the ridiculously early departure from my person hungry bed. However, my mother did not seem so thrilled that I spent the afternoon’s tour off in another world. “Why are you so tired?” Her inquisition of never-ending questions had begun, “Didn’t I tell you not to stay up so late? How long were you up?” She paused to think about her inquiry, “No, don’t tell me, I don’t want to know. Just don’t ruin the holiday by spending it asleep. Your whole life will drift by you if you don’t wake up once in a while to seize the day.” Oh yes, Carpe Diam, seizing the day; Caesar was seized on a certain day and look how well that played out for histories records. Plenty of people seize their existence but what they achieve with their captor is universally horrifying; lending support to my philosophy of how to handle reality; it is better for humanity to live out their twisted fantasies within the realms of their imagination than lay siege to the realm of reality.

Her inquiries trail off as my mind reinstates it’s coping habit of wandering; I give a reassuring, “Mmhmm.”, every so often to let her know I am bound to this existence and more importantly to “our” conversation. In my wanderings the mountain’s mystique appears again though too quickly disrupted by the hair-raising impression of the ghost girl. I cannot shake her stained appearance from the video of my imagination, so I venture back to the boarders of reality to re-join the finishing conversation. “You’re nineteen now and it’s time to start existing in this world instead of vanishing to others. Make a name for yourself, meet someone, settle down.” My ears deny entry to this trail of thought however it by passes the security and scuttles straight for my fragile heart. I’ve heard this too many times before that it has become a script I can recite, yet no matter how many times my head anticipates what is to come the words always wound fresh on my unsuspecting heart. The last year of being a teenager, my impending mortality, the setting sun of fun and the hastily pursuing ghost of nights future. Why go to work for a future not worth seeing? The present is where I am and where I will always be, and while I am still a teenager, I won’t let the light of imagination set; I shall never not look for an adventure to chase or a world to explore. My heart beats softer at my minds reminders; it’s not over yet. What place do I have in a world that doesn’t want me? I guess I’ll just escape to one that does.

Our tour and discussion abruptly ended, which occurs often in the nature of life. The feeling of endurance escapes me, so I decide to escape with it. “Hey, I’m just gonna go seize this moment elsewhere, if that’s ok with you.” I inform my mother before turning away. Her eyes beg for me to stay but my heart beckons me go. It’s more than space from her that I crave, it’s a space that can only be experienced by those who have tasted the abyss beyond the earth’s suffocating sphere; by those who have feasted amongst the performance of the stars. That conversation has set my spirits back two months, to a… harder time. Eh, that season and lecture are one and the same now, part of a non-existent past. This moment is where the world is set ablaze, but in the desirable sensation, not an ice cream malfunctioning paranoia way. The sun kisses the world it’s parting farewell yet lingers on unwilling to let go of a love so dear. The further into death it travels the deeper it’s mesmerising glow and despite the winter setting, I believe to be one of the recipients of the wallowing sun’s parting peck. A forced stream of air trails after her but no matter how heavy a sigh I exhale it will never be strong enough to reach the sun. My eyes begin to search the oddly paired orange and blue scene that stemmed from the closing eye of Heaven. A peculiar blend of passion and apathy bonded together in one environment displaying the full spectrum of nature’s personality. Two opposing natures equating to one lung deflating moment of awe.

I hurried around the dock to witness the last minutes of the speedily fleeing light. With the sun’s eyes level with my own, I realised it’s attention was no longer situated on my person rather another soul whose excessive voluptuousness stole from the sun and seas hypnotising effect. The sun’s part functioned only as an unworthy back drop to the eye leading wooden bridge travelling nowhere short of Heaven’s joy and posed delicately atop laid a poor mimic of a rulers berth. Beauty hung about, within and beyond her presence at that docks end, yet where the dock ended, with her eternity began. She’s loved, she’s loved and yet I pray she is prone to love. Do I dare walk down destiny’s lane towards the expanding cosmos’s glory? My body becomes active in a manner I have not known before as every particle twings and hums in an attempt to connect to her presence. Frozen and buzzing, stopped in breath and beat but set in inner motions as each cell repeats the only word worth uttering, “Love.” Can one love in a moment of sight? The sceptic in me yells, ‘lust.’, however the romantic pleads, ‘love.’ The sceptic’s logic for lust follows this rationality, ‘You only love the promises she holds, not who she actually is.” But the romantic rebuttals, “All of love begins in a moment; the point of their significance metamorphosing from little to full happens in a particular spot that love marks within times hidden records. Think of a mother whose first hold of her child sparks a uniting bond that outlasts death.” With that rebuttal my rooted legs recede their depth’s allowing me to chase what little sight remains of the strayed rays of light.

The nearer I draw to her the weaker I grow. My stomach decides to rebel against it’s confinement and stir up anarchy within. Fear coils serpent like around my heart in attempts to choke it’s fickle warmth. Her inviting eyes and widening beam rid me of my former ailments. “Hi.” I croak. “Hi.” She responds with a giggle. A delighted confusion masks her features, neither expected nor unwanted, I am invited to stay. Utterly luring in the entirety of her presentation, from the intriguing element of her ill seasoned elegant swimsuit to the tales of fortune she graciously dispensed. Every aspect of her complexion rivalled the delicate curvatures and soft essence of the ocean while simultaneously capturing the confronting raw essence of the warmth bestowing sun. Beautifully hot and hotly beautiful, the world haloed around her magnifying centre; intoxicated on her speech I forgot any other home then her castled eyes. “Will I be ever so fortunate to see you tonight at the towns winter festival?” Her voice symphonied to my music deprived ears. “I was supposed to be heading back but I can try my powers of persuasion to stay a little longer.” I can’t believe I am even considering any other option than yes. I gotta convince my mother to stay and fast.

We part ways in a sombre hope that five thousand departing suns could never capture. The mother I so easily left proves most difficult to find; if I hadn’t desired her any other day, she’d appear but, on this day, she becomes a Wally in the crowd. Through the harbour shops I forage, yet no sign, then I scout from the high veranda’s overseeing the port, nothing; finally, I check each venue that serves fish and chips, ice cream, or any tongue pleasing place known in the area. My search results in my minds misery, she’s not here, perhaps I angered her to leave without me. I decide to head into the town and glance at the festival that is beginning to take effect. It’s the standard event of sustenance trucks and rookie musicians and… mother! “Hey, I was looking for you!” I shout before quickly assessing that not everyone is being reunited with their mother and also have little investment in my reunion. “I was too. I know you wanted some space and it’s ok if you want to leave but I thought it would be fun for us to stay for the festival.” Oh, what cosmic deed did I achieve to deserve such a divine blessing. One cannot fathom the rarity of someone aligning with my desires. “Perfect.” I respond, “That’s actually what I wanted to ask you if I could stay a fraction longer. I heard the festival was not an occasion to be missed.” From what I’ve seen, it totally was misable but that… that female manifestation of paradise was not one to pass.

The happenings of that night are a blur, however the clarity of her waist pulled close to mine, as we twirled endlessly to the underappreciated upcoming artists of that town, revisits my mind at the suns coming and going. One particular duelled aspect of the night were the soft whisperings of unimaginable promises of other worldly marvels which the specific details of these wonders act as a haze on my mind, protecting me from their heart stealing effect. These unfilled promises died forgotten by those who uttered them, but their essence of expectation given to the receiver was unforgettable. Her voice held its charming affect long after her sentences deceased. A voice that I am convinced shall haunt time’s ear centuries succeeding her departure. There is one part of that nights dialogue that I can disclose with absolute certainty of its untainted nature, despite the constant replaying of it since within my mind, “I believe that you love me, but just to be sure I have a quest that I expect you to brave.” Her lips parted millimetres away from my devouring ear. “Anything.” My breath touched back.