Last night I was Sal Paradise. I sat in the middle of a huge wine glass as the wine was poured from a cask toward me and life splashed and twirled and collapsed and dizzied itself around me. I was nearly drowned in the life that suffocated me- it was beautiful. The people swaggered and staggered spilling out 'hey baby's' and 'nice to see you's' laughing raucously destroying any air of 'I don't really know you'. They mixed and eddied and danced and fell and rose and got shot and stumbled over lounge seats waving cigarettes warning people. I sat there with legs crossed taking it all in, I smiled and smiled till my face stayed that way.
The music bound my ears and I bounced and nodded and closed my eyes and swayed and shook and took out all my inhibitions. The night stretched from my birth until eternity and we wrote poetry and forgot and walked up stairs and leaned against walls and let life overtake us as we ran at breakneck speed to keep up with it all. The Moroccan gentleman on the way home was dynamite. He spoke with a French accent and spewed crazy Australia better than Cronulla and Bondi and Manly combined. I was raptured by him; I wanted to go home and meet his family: 'how do you do?' bowing low and English- like. I wanted him to take me to Morocco and show me where to eat and walk through the deserts and rush through marketplaces knocking down fruit stands.
When I arrived home my heart was swimming and waterlogged. Both heavy and light and dancing and aching and stretched out over my bed I closed my eyes and fell asleep into yet another dream.
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