The Court

You could almost hear the laughter of the kids, the squeaking of trainers, the crash of the backboard or the swoosh of the net.

People had won and lost on that court, people had smiled and cursed and there was a beauty to its abandonment, the emptiness allowed the mind to search for the stories the place had seen and created.

There is something beautiful about a place and how it can inspire thoughts and ignite the imagination.

But more than that when I re-read her words I feel the need to tell them stories. I remember how the imagination was free to roam and connections came easy. I inhaled and looked into the darkness, through the light. She was beautiful and so at ease. I missed her and I missed a little part of me.

Play

Darkness was approaching, we had been on the road for 32hours, desperately seeking the sun. The journey had been long and in hindsight not too dramatic, but at that moment the patience levels were low and even the simplest of tasks, which kiosk to buy a celebratory beer from, had sparked conflict. We were tired.

As we took the first sips from the cold cans, a taste that in actual fact neither of us wanted, the smell of a pillow our only desire, the street lamps came on and there, under the yellow light, a child threw a basketball to his father. The ball slipped through his fingers and hit his chin, the child fell backwards laughing and his father raced over to wrestle with him. We were 100m down the road before I could see the outcome, but a smile crept across my face. We had made it.