So it begins.
At the end of the story.
The reel is nearly finished. Millimetres cut down to size. 35 pictures per second, tricking the eye/brain into creating that one, final image. Two little words.
The hardest to get to.
Just as three are the hardest to leave behind.
This has nothing to do with a movie. But even an ending needs somewhere to start from.
Discarded ticket. Student rate. ID therefore I am. What am I? Student? Driver? Traveller? All or none of these things, as paper permits? Paper over picture.
How did you define me? That first time? You had no paper to go on, just a picture before you. And the language it spoke.
I spoke. Didn't speak.
Wait, we are going the wrong way. I started at the end so that's where we'll begin, when
Morning broke my heart again. Sun shining its mocking pheromones, and You and I trying not to look like we were trying to not look at each other. Because it hurt.
You said We couldn't communicate.
You said every time We tried to talk the conversation turned
-What do you mean?
-Turned, changed…
(What were they, traffic lights?)
Sometimes it is the presence that is not there that affects you most.
And I thought of you. Just when I was about to feel alone. And I felt a little lonelier for a second, until the reel wound back, back to the frames we shared together, and I was comforted by the image of you.
But we can distort the image. Manipulation. Who needs to diet when you have a digital camera? Where there was something, nothing. And where there was nothing, something.
I could see the Other in the way You stirred your coffee.
You asked why I didn't drink mine.
I asked why You though I drank coffee. With two sugars and no milk.
Maybe I should have gone to see a Disney movie. Big corporation feel good fucking film. Linear. Predictable. Comfortable. Maybe I'll rent one later. A walk down 3D lane first though..
Where for art my iPod? A theme tune for around every corner.
Beep, Beep
Invitation to dinner. There's a gathering of the clan. Sent? (not by whom, but when)
Hmm, I'll be fashionably late…
-Hey there. Where were you?
-
-Oh, was it any good? Timmy! Give me that and let your sister alone!! Go on out the pair of ye. The sun's shining. Go out and play in the fields for a while or something.
Sorry, where was I? Oh yes, there's a plate in the microwave for you if you're hungry, we're outside on the patio. Come out and I'll introduce you to some people. Some friends of…Timmy!!! If I have to tell you again!
I'll just pop this in to zap while we go outside. I swear those kids are going to be the death of me one day!
Is it right to trust all your senses?
Is the world a stage of 35 frames a second?
Reality was projected before me.
I knew, somewhere in the back of my mind, that the end of the tunnel of light cast onto the screen in front of me would be obscured by daylight – if only the exit doors were opened.
After dinner mints.
-Anyone for tea? Coffee?
Right, we'll put on the percolator. Rodger, where did you put that coffee Jane brought you from France ?
No, no, it's all right, you sit down now and I'll look after it. Sure I'm up already anyway.
Do you think I should put on enough for the other two for when they get back with the kids? Oh sure there'll just be the one extra anyway, what am I thinking?
Kids make me giddy. Am I allowed to be like that? Why do I feel like a kid waiting to be chastised for acting like a child? My favourite adult moments are those where I'm jumping from cushion to cushion, hoping not to fall into the shark infested floor, rain battering against the window pane.
-So that's one without milk, three with, two sugars…I know a better way of dealing with this. I'll just bring out everything and everyone can do what they like.
Frames of you appeared from nowhere in my mind's eye.
There are songs I endure instead of enjoy now.
I rewind, trying to play back, freeze frame, to see when exactly, to see where the first ‘if' came into play.
Patches of the past sewn together by the present, building the model for the future.
-The kids are waiting for you. They refuse to go to bed before you tuck them in and tell them a story. I've warned them, just the one.
We kissed on the landing.
My hand on the handle, my lips on yours.
And the moment was Ours. Everything stopped. And changed. Then You continued on your path and I opened the door.
I had promised a story. As I am forced to promise every time before I am released back into the real world. So I try to make it last. But not draw out.
-Will you tell us a story? Pleeeeeeeease? Promise we'll go straight to sleep. Promise.
Two stories?
Just two.
THEN we'll go to sleep.
Cos , cos, well we've been waiting for AGES and
Your our favourite cousin
Yeah
Can we do one like we did the last time
with the torch and the animals?
And we won't tell mommy.
Promise.
There's only so long you can hide a smile. Blatant lies are funniest coming from kids. They are more appreciated, sometimes, coming from adults. At least the guilt it came from can salve some of the pain it inflicts.
Long, long ago…

Niamh Mc Namara is a 24 year old writer from Cork city. She studied Arts in NUI Galway and after a year in Scotland, is returning to live and write there.