A couple of summers back I was surrounded by Canada geese.

A couple of summers back I was surrounded by Canada geese. It was after a party. One of the old parties that we used to have. The ones that seem so far away now; mainly because once you jump out of that phase where you want to get emotionally headfucked every other week, the distance you can travel from that space in a short space of time is pretty staggering.

I’d not slept. I shared the last remaining pills with a friend. We snorted them, figured it would be funny. Our noses stung. We licked the last of the coke off the table, the last of the MDMA from the plastic wrap that it came in. Washed it all down with the last quarter of the final bottle of vodka. I left the party at 2pm to meet a friend.

We walked round the park. I gave up trying to make sense of how I felt. I settled for a vagueness that seemed to fit whatever mood was trying to work itself to the surface of my emotions.

The gaggle of geese wobbled around me, hoping for bread. I had no bread. I was intimidated by the number of birds, the flapping of the wings, and craning of necks. My friend guided me to safety; I tiptoed around small splats of duck shit. I left the park and tried to make my way home without further upset. I looked at the sky.