Sweating it out

Percussive sit-ups surrounded by Philip Glass. A sleeping child cries out, a memory from when they drove through the long night, a journey they made many times, their children, so young then, filling the dark with their fragile breath, this same ethereal music playing. Occasionally lights of other travellers speeding over that cold landscape bathed them as if recording tiny moments in the history of vulnerable people. Again he hears the cry, realises it begins deep in his own heart. Pain increasing, he sweats, counts. Days will pass, however slowly, and then his family’s safe return, if he can just keep going.

 

© Ian C Smith