Lost somewhere
It is dawn here in this strange land, though according to your watch it is tea time. You keep it set to the time back home, in part to remind you it is still there, and in part to act as some sort of constant. After all, the days are strange here. One lasted forty hours, while yesterday the sun rose to its noon height, then pumetted vertically like a shot gamebird. Instead, you eat when they eat at home, you sleep when they sleep, and you dream you were there.
You sit under a tree and eye the lush strawberries that hang from it, the size of pineapples and the colour of an open wound, with accusatory distaste. Last time you ate one, you fell to fever visions for two days. The flora here has been trial and error, Russian Roulette with tropical foliage, but tonight - this morning - whatever - you take the safe bet, a blue, jellylike fruit you have eaten before, bland but harmless. It is Tuesday at home. Steak and kidney pie on Tuesdays.
You sit under a tree and eye the lush strawberries that hang from it, the size of pineapples and the colour of an open wound, with accusatory distaste. Last time you ate one, you fell to fever visions for two days. The flora here has been trial and error, Russian Roulette with tropical foliage, but tonight - this morning - whatever - you take the safe bet, a blue, jellylike fruit you have eaten before, bland but harmless. It is Tuesday at home. Steak and kidney pie on Tuesdays.