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.
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