06.

A 1am breeze whips up, softly refreshing, as the wine softly droops my eyelids. An hour away from last year. An inch away from comfort. Perhaps no coherent words were spoken. Perhaps too many things needed to be said. Perhaps nothing at all needed to manifest in words.

Words, you see, are instant. They lift and drop (like a question on your plate) like the glass that you drink from, quench from. Soon enough you’ll need more. And more. I understood that words collapse around you like an unsuccessful dress, unpinned. Temporary at best. Exposing you, an object of observation. An object of objection.

So I closed my eyes and savoured the breeze instead, an inch away. Quick comfort is not my goal this year. I understood that things are not always solvable in an instant (much to my surprise). Some things, like wine, need a bit of patience. So here’s a toast to 2006... and the test of time.