Swimming with fishes
by Adam Parry.
We all went for breakfast to Dobbie’s at the top of Lang
Stracht. I must admit I expected the breakfast to be better than it was, but basically,
I left most of it on the plate and I left the others and wandered about the
cavernous shop and in time happened upon the room full of aquariums. I could’ve
stayed for hours, or maybe it was days my emotions ranged from how beautiful to
a lonely despair because I wanted to set them free, but knew however they’d
probably die in the river, or the sea or whatever water in released them into.
There was such a variety of colour and shapes and a part of me wanted to be a
beautiful fishy in my tank, and I tried to imagine what it would be like then
wondered if there was a fish looking out wanting to be me. I doubted it and
went to find my family my ears popping with the bends and I bought a book I did
not read; some cat food the cat didn’t want and an indoor tree I didn’t water
got back into the back seat of the car thinking if wishes were fishes, then I’d
be three.
The sun was shining when they dropped me off and I knew
wishes weren’t fishes for if they were I’d be standing where I’d been, and be
standing there now instead of looking out this window drowning in this air.
Sad but lovely.
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