Sister-Kind - Till Human Voices Wake Us

 

FRIDAY

Till human voices wake us
Part Seven of Sister-kind

Something shifts in the black, it forces us to remember, the stir and curious form of the mind entangles itself from the morass and seeks to be awakened. We are guided by ethereal song, the lights that serve as beacons to evoke memory, self, consciousness, being, together risen from this deep dark place, the longing of our soul to be lifted to be returned to this plain once more, here, and only shall it be so till human voices wake us.

                                                                 

There’s a choir singing in the opening of The Rolling Stones song “You can’t always get what you want”, this angelic verse brings me out from the pit black sleep, this substitute for ethereal verse serving as my theme music for this morning, it echoes moment in this trip as a lesson about materialism and the pleasures of life.
In this sleep cycle I don’t recall my dreams, everything has been on pause, hibernation, digestion and as the reassembling of body of and soul commences, inside whichever backroom, down some deep dark corridor where my reeling brain has spooled away my consciousness is suddenly reconnected to the mammalian frontal lobes where suddenly I’m connected to pain like that of a jack hammer breaking my skull in two.

I have the doona over my head and roll my wrist waking the LED display of the Casio G-Shock, in the dark the digital teal caps read 9.30am, hmm this is good there’s plenty of time for me to get downstairs to the buffet, but as an immediate after thought in all seriousness breakfast is an impossibility, I can barely move, when I try the effort strains every muscle in body which seems to be directly connected to my head, neck and shoulder muscles, I feel the weight of my flesh hanging from my head like meat for slaughter. I am love butcher, with my delicate carcass unable to shift out from under the covers, so I lay there a little more, whimpering to myself, crying from the hurt, the sting, the pain, the constant stabbing sensation rocking back and forth like someone is pole driving a chisel into the back of my head, I mouth, “Ow ow ow” and “Fuck!” and writhe about tossing and turning.

I am in some serious fucking pain right now and it takes considerable effort to even make it to the bathroom to search for my headache tablets. I look in the mirror and it’s greetings from the dead, the toiletries bag is flung open and the swallowing of pills begins. I down at least four panadines and drink a full bottle of room temperature water, then splash water over my face, washing my hands and face with soap, then rinsing off with warm water and a flannel. I stagger to the toilet and then I sense flashbacks of some random event at about 3am when I went to throw up, but all I did was chuck up a tiny morsel of sick. I manage to squat thrust and there’s some hope that this will aid in the untangling of my stomach, but this doesn’t happen and instead of feeling lighter or freed from crap I just feel worse. I don’t even bother to wipe my ass or flush, I go back to the mirror, surveying the damage, the facial stubble, the blood shot eyes and the dour expression remains, this is a clear indication that the entire morning now is more than likely a write-off.

Oh and I smell, I need to shower, in doing so I have a little trouble trying to work the shower controls until eventually, after some considerable effort, I get the temperature settings to my liking and then proceed to collapse in a heap on the tiled floor. I just sit there for a while, my head hung low, the water hitting the back of my neck and it feels good. I sit like that for at least 20 mins, the water stays warm, working itself over the pressure pads on the back of skull, it’s soothing, I hear nothing but the rain, it blocks out everything, all thought, all recognition of the self. I realise that I probably need to sleep some more and while I’m waiting in earnest for the pills to work, the amount of phosphate tied to the codeine is turning my guts into knots, it’s working me over like kids on a jumpy castle, instantly I heave and all that comes out is some of the water I skulled back earlier. This is followed by further attempts to puke which only results in the act of dry reaching which makes my eyes bulge and makes my head want to explode, Oooh fuck!, the pain is like white lightening behind the eyes. I turn off the shower with a yank and then grab a fresh towel, I pat myself down a few times and walk back to the bed, climbing back into bed wet, throwing the covers over my head and somehow fall asleep.

It’s a few hours later when I wake again. Instinctively I call Jeff, I ask him how he’s doing and he tells me that he’s pretty good to do nothing for a while. The voice in my head answers for him and says, “It’s called a hangover” but all I can feel is the bottle in my stomach, the spin cycle and tension, the empty pit lined with chalk from the pills. Jeff asks when would I like to do something and I say “in an hour or so”, then I hang up. I roll over and find the remote control sitting on the ottoman; I sit up and reach for it, my hand doesn’t get it the first second or third time, but when I do my stomach muscles hurt like I’ve been punched. I flick on the TV and sort of doze there for a bit, I’m not quite asleep but this seems to go on for at least 20 minutes until I get up to grab some water. When I guzzle from the bottle I’m more careful, I grab two more panadines and swallow these with a valium chaser then go back to the shower. Here, the second time around, I do my business properly, I wash my hair, soap my body from head to toe, next I find a razor blade and shave away the stubble and when I’m done there’s a feeling that normalcy is returning.

I put on the grey chinos and don an ultramarine blue Ralph Lauren mesh polo top. I lace up the New Balance urban hikers I bought earlier in the week and walk across the hall to Jeff’s room. After a gentle rap on the door he opens up squinting back at me through the half closed door, he tells me that he isn’t ready so I go back to my room and watch TV for a little bit until he’s done showering and in about 20 minutes Jeff is ready to head out. We don’t head downstairs right away and instead we go upstairs to the club lounge to use the PC’s to check our emails. I click Gmail and see that Kelly has responded to my last email.

Boo,

You can’t take booze back in, so don't buy any.  That law has been in place for the past couple of years. 
You have to buy it at Perth airport when you arrive back, just before you go through customs.

Yeah, china town is a bit of a spin out ... ha ha.  I told you to brace yourself :)

When do you come back?

Kel

X

I don’t write back right away and instead look at Jeff and say, “I can lend you some cash from the clan bank account if you like?” He smiles appreciatively accepting my terms to repay once we’re back and this resolves his financial situation nicely.

We decide to go out to Times Square to visit the XL Shop so that I can get that MAK kit that I asked about when we were at Mid Valley Mega Mall earlier on in the week, but first we decide to lunch at Tony Romas at the Pavilion. I pop another valium and we taxi it there in lieu of walking because today more than any other day - not a single fuck shall be given, no effort made and no meals shall be skimped on. When we get to Tony Romas and we have to wait a while until we can be seated, we’re not overly fussed about waiting and in a short time our hostess seats us and we’re lucky enough to get a nice big booth all to ourselves. Our hostess kicks off the ordering process almost immediately, starting with drinks, I begin with a pint of Grape drink by A&W that tastes a lot like Hubba Bubba Grape gum after the first slurp and then every other mouthful thereafter is a pale reminder of that first gulp and sadly it’s never nowhere near as nice. Next we get into chicken bites with the ranch style dressing, then smash loaded potato skins and then for the main attraction my lunchtime meal will be a Cajun burger and chips.

The sugar high of my beverage offers both serenity and tranquillity, coupled with the diazepam at work, it puts all of life’s worries in it’s right place, any aches or mind boggles are rinsed away. I sit there with that stupid stoned grin, the mongoloid kind, numb, disconnected, though here, my conscious is present, my mood turns to amusement in watching and letting everything happen around me like a melodic dream. I reflect back to our first luncheon here at Tony Romas and in contrast I recognise that I’m more settled now, happier, oh so much more happy, the tension, the frantic wound up pace I’d been moving at these past few months is gone, forgotten as some distant memory.

Incredibly I’m able to eat the whole serving and when we’re done we both sit there a while and Jeff can’t believe how happy I am, he takes mental snapshots as proof that he’s seen me this joyful.
After digestion we leave The Pavilion and take a short taxi ride to Times Square, it’s two streets away but we have to do a lap of Bukit Bintang which costs us RM10 but as I said, not a fuck is given.

We go into Times Square and immediately begin the escalator rides toward XL Shop, I go in, the young lad see’s me, he’s the guy who worked the counter at the Mega Valley store so he knows why I’m here, he pulls out the MAK kit, it’s another Luna Prawn, same resin kit, but fuck it I’d rather have two of these as they’re actually very pricey and impossible to find in Australia. I thank him for the trouble of getting the kit from the warehouse head quarters and bringing it here for me. After the transaction is complete we don’t linger and leave this floor heading downstairs and actually consider leaving Times Square entirely and head over to Sungei Wang. But we realise that it’s still early afternoon and there’s still time enough to do stuff, so we head over to Borders and I begin looking for the latest Bret Easton Ellis novel that I keep hearing about called ‘Imperial Bedrooms’, I ask the clerk if he has it or an older copy of JG Ballard’s Cocaine Nights. He does a computer inventory check and while he does this I wander over the manga section and look for collected 2000AD annuals hoping to find Rogue Trooper or Strontium Dog. I find a collected volume of Rogue Trooper and after reading the jacket for the story outline I’m pretty sure that I don’t have all of these strips in a single volume already. I also spot a collection of Commando comics, each with a different World War 2 campaign as a running theme, I choose the one that covers D-Day and as I’m doing this Jeff wanders over holding a paperback copy of Imperial Bedrooms. I check the price and can’t believe what they’re charging for it and decide to give it a miss. I go back to the shelves and look around for an erotic picture book by Roy Stuart, which is called Volume 5, but I don’t see it, I see collected work by Richard Kern and other erotic photographers, I look for Helmut Newton and Tony Ward but find nothing so I take my comics over to the cashier to pay and then we go.

As we’re getting ready to make our move over to Sungei Wang Jeff suggests we go see the new Harry Potter movie and I can’t believe that this idea appeals to me because while kids films isn’t usually my thing, going to the movies isn’t actually such a bad idea given how rough we’ve both pulled up this morning. I agreed at this proposal as I really cannot be fucked walking around after last night’s binge, my legs feel swollen and my body is weak, so the prospect of sitting in an air-conditioned theatre watching a film probably isn’t as bad as you’d think... or is it.

You should know that cinema going in KL is a cultural event....well that isn’t entirely true, but given that today, opening day for the new Harry Potter film, the cinema is packed to the rafters with families and their spawn of children. We’re seated off to the side of an aisle row somewhere in the middle, its stadium seating and we’re actually in one of the best positions you could hope for. Everyone is talking at a frantic pace, people are even taking phone calls and the murmur doesn’t even begin to quiet down until the first scene of the movie begins. There is bright yellow Malay font running on the bottom of the screen for the language translation, thankfully for us the film is spoken in English and the subtitles at the bottom aren’t really a problem, that is until you hear people translating for others in the audience. And so it goes on like this, the murmur of translation ever present and the sound of squirming children, some crying, some running around. Jeff’s jaw is clenching and unclenching, he’s pissed off beyond anything I’ve ever seen, in the seats behind us a five year old is running around the legs of his parents, constantly hopping up and down off their laps and as he does this he kicks the seats, shoving the back of the seat forward and one time kicking out with his legs and connecting with the back of Jeff’s head. Jeff turns to me saying, “I’m gonna fucken knock this little cunt out in a second”. I start to feel panic and I’m immediately appealing for him to just chill, I feel like a hostage negotiator, I tell him, “Mate we’re in their country, just chill, they don’t get it”, but he’s not hearing me, he’s getting pretty worked up right now and there’s the fear that he might lash out and do something crazy, I start having flashes of getting hauled away and phone calls being made from a Malay police station to the Australian consulate. But thankfully he doesn’t lose his shit, he just sits there grinding his teeth and occasionally swearing at me about the lack of manners of these people. I find the situation funny and difficult at the same time, unsure how things might have gone down if Jeff had reacted.

We walk out the cinema and head out towards the street level and walk up two blocks towards Sungei Wang Plaza, once inside we find the coffee shop that my sister has been raving about called The Coffee Bean, I ask the attendant if they have any vanilla powder and the young woman tells me that they have run out here but that they might have it at their Pavilion store. So we leave, I’m disappointed and Jeff’s mood is better than mine and he says, “Fuck it let’s head over to the Pavilion and look there” so we go, we walk there and after which I’m the one who is antsy. We find The Coffee Bean franchise located in the bottom level and I wander up to the counter and ask the young woman who is serving if she has any vanilla powder, she tells that she needs to check with her boss and after a few minutes she says that she can get me the powder but confirms would I be happy to purchase a large tin of the powder as that’s all she can find. I say sure thing and she asks me if I’d like something to drink and that it will be at least 15 minutes until she’s got the powder together. I say fine and order a large fruit juice drink on ice and Jeff orders something similar. We sit down in these really comfortable lounge style single seats by a low rise coffee table, I roll my neck and shoulders and start to unwind. I sip at my fresh fruit juice through a straw and make small talk with Jeff, I ask him how he’s found the trip and whether or not I’ve been bearable for his tolerance. He laughs, saying that I’ve been a good friend, but then he tells me that he can’t wait to go home and that he’s had enough of this place. I learn later that he’s been missing the latest Call of Duty instalment and that’s the main reason he’d rather be home right now, but me - I’m happy to stay here, I could spend a month like this and not think of home once. In the short time we’ve been here, the routine we’ve both developed has been pure joy, I love the convenience of the hotel, that invisible sense of accommodation, the token of ignorance awarded to every tourist. I love the shopping, the aloof swishing about from store to store all day and then heading back to the hotel for afternoon canapés and sundowners followed by going out to dinner, Oh the food! The fresh fruit that seems to accompany every meal and the choice of what you might like to eat is seemingly endless. I also like the in-jokes that Jeff and I share that seems to go hand in hand with our running commentary, I tell Jeff, “I love it here” and then he says, “You know we need to come back here again” and I agree, as it’s too nice a country to only see once.

I realise we’ve been gas bagging a while now as I sit there having a drink, listening to Xmas music with Jeff. I get up at least twice to ask the store attendant how long the vanilla powder is going to be and every time I speak to her I get another piece of the puzzle. Up until this point I thought she was wholesale bagging it up from some storage container, but instead she’s rung around all of the Coffee Bean franchise stores and she’s managed to source a single remaining tin that is going to be hand delivered by a staff member from one of the other stores. I can hardly believe it.
Back home you’d be told that they don’t have it and to go somewhere else, but here these people bend over backwards to assist and I am so amazed. I sit back down for another 10 to 15 minutes and eventually the young Miss walks over to us and says that she finally has the vanilla powder ready.
I meet her at the cash register and pay for the drinks and the powder, the tin is fairly large and there is a small dent, to which she profusely apologises for. I tell her not to worry as it’s what’s inside that counts, the vanilla powder is unopened and there’s enough of a supply that should keep my sisters cravings in check right through until she gives birth.

On the way out we go past Parksons and I buy a fresh pair of underwear for the trip home, I select a pair of Byfords and I’m satisfied at the colour choice, we walk past Brooks Brothers and I window shop looking at a few nice brightly coloured mesh polo tops, I think to go inside but then pass it up as I’ve already got way too much stuff. When we leave the Pavilion night is falling, we wander around outside for the last time, I walk past the Coach store and think of my sister and suddenly it hits me...Home. All the thoughts of family and loved ones fill my heart and instantly I am ready to go back to my life there.

Jeff finds us both a premier taxi, that being a blue one, it’s a nice SUV similar to the one Mr Miyagi drove us home to the hotel earlier on in the week. Our taxi driver unfortunately isn’t Mr Miyagi and instead is a young Indian fellow who seems happy enough to talk to us. Jeff rides up front and together the taxi driver and Jeff discuss how long he’s been driving tonight and then Jeff asks how many accidents he’s seen in his time driving taxis. He tells us not too many, he claims that Malaysian people are excellent drivers and that accidents are a rare thing, Jeff and I can hardly believe it, the linear distance between objects moving in traffic at such high speeds is catalyst for a predictable amount of accidents.

We watch scooter riders weave in and out of traffic with less than a metre between vehicles and somehow nobody manages to get clipped. So Jeff’s questions turn towards the scooter riders, how much is a scooter worth versus how much a car is worth for a family, and how often are scooter riders killed and it’s at this point our driver drops the veil of the friendly tourist taxi driver and speaks to us more honestly, he says, “Ok sometimes it happens, but mostly on the freeways at night” And we’d both seen the way people drive on the freeway. And this is the hook, Jeff goes at him suggesting that “accidents happen at night do they?”, our driver says, “Sure, you just don’t see them on the freeway at night, they’re easy to miss” And Jeff counters by asking, “So they kinda get skittled right?” our driver agrees as it’s easy not see them until it’s too late. Jeff continues to be coy by suggesting that, “So how close do you think you can get to the back wheel of that bike in front?”, our driver nearly gasps, but Jeff remains jovial about the whole thing, “Seriously how close you think you can get?”, he  goes on to propose that “if you can get within half a metre to the back wheel of the closest scooter” he’ll give the driver a tip of RM20, our driver laughs it off, but Jeff up the stakes and offers that if he can just kiss the back wheel of a scooter, you know to give the rider a bit of a scare from the bumper, he’ll give the taxi driver RM50, then for laughs the driver starts edging really close to scooter riders and then brakes sharply. This is funnier than how it sounds as the driver obviously has no intents to actually hit a scooter rider but it’s the kind of funny that I like. Jeff keeps upping the monetary amount until he’s got him up to RM250 and then the driver’s look kinda changes, like Jeff’s found the sweet spot and you can tell he’s actually putting all of the pro’s and con’s together in his mind. A voice in the back of my mind goes “Oh shit” but before this dare evolves beyond a joke we’re pulling up onto the paved driveway of the hotel. I’m able to relax a little, giggling with our driver for the funzies and Jeff gives the guy a nice fat tip which makes it all worthwhile.

 I ask Jeff if he wants a drink but he says, “Nah fuck that” and instead we go upstairs to our rooms for a short spell and then it’s time for dinner.
When we come down for dinner, we’ve decided to hit the international buffet one last time and upon arrival we’re greeted by Madsa, the restaurant manager who we’ve grown to really appreciate. He welcomes us warmly and seats us off to the side of the restaurant where we can see everything but it’s private enough for us not be too bothered by anyone. Jeff places his order with Madsa, he orders the bowtie pasta he’s liked a lot and while I’m off getting a side plate of fresh fruit Jeff reveals to Madsa just how bad the service was the other nite. When I come back Jeff interjects and says, “tell Madsa how bad the roast was?” I take a moment to consider what I’ll say next without being too judgemental and in doing so I simply state it was uncooked and that there were things on the buffet that were cold. Madsa takes it all in and is kind of embarrassed but he explains that the other buffet team aren’t as good as his, “I get to pick all the guys on my team, these guys are the best”. And Jeff and I agree, as all the food on Madsa’s shift is always perfect.

We get a lot of access to Madsa tonite, he comes back and forth to our table chatting with us, he tells us about a group of Australian ladies who are seated off to our right, they are perhaps maybe ten years older than me, Madsa explains that they come to the hotel every 6 months for shopping and fun, sometimes they bring friends or they come in groups. He then goes on about all the Aussie regulars that keep coming back to the hotel and how he’s gotten to know them, he explains that the hotel also does a lot of organising of things that people want to do, just to make it easier on the guest and again I’m amazed at the level of hospitality in this hotel, let alone this city.

Madsa ushers me around the pontoons of food tonite, he makes suggestions, asking me to try a mouthful of this and that, he says the soup tonite is excellent, but I’m set on the curries, he smiles when I tell him this and he totally understands, “Of course our curries are always good” and then he mentions that the roast is good tonite, so we walk on over to the roast and he serves me. I’m blown away, the manager of the restaurant is serving me a portion of roast, the chef freshly cuts the meat, he even asks me how much I’d like, I ask for 2 pieces as I really want to save room for the curry, he offers two different gravies and there’s an assortment of mustards on offer as well a mint sauce.

I get back to the table and Madsa disappears only to reappear once I’m done with the roast dinner. He asks me how I found the roast dinner tonite and I tell him it’s excellent and he tells me that he’s happy that he could right that situation from the other night. I tell him “Oh don’t worry about it, I really wasn’t bothered” so I get up and begin to head towards the curries and Madsa takes my plate away. The manager is waiting on us, it’s unheard of. Madsa then takes me through a series of deserts and he jokes around saying, “these are good but these are really evil”, Jeff waltzes on over and joins in the desert hunting game, he and Madsa head over to the ice cream and Madsa serves Jeff three different scoops of ice cream, there’s at least 12 different flavours in the icebox.

When we’re done with dinner Madsa asks if we want a coffee, or can he get us a taxi if we’re going out tonite and we tell him that tonite is our last night and he seems genuinely saddened that we’re leaving. He asks have we organised wake up calls and he takes us over the front desk and then afterwards introduces us to tomorrow mornings taxi rank manager and helps us make all of the arrangements in getting to the airport. He’s most insistent with the other members of staff and he makes sure that they are going to take care of us in the morning. Madsa is still jovial when he see’s more guests arriving for the buffet, it seems as though we got here early before the rush, I almost hesitate in asking but I ask Madsa if he’d pose in a photo with Jeff and I and he immediately agrees.
The buffet cashier takes the shot and we get a wonderful picture of Madsa with his arms around Jeff and I, it’s really very nice and thoughtful.

We say our goodbyes to Madsa and he and Jeff even exchange email addresses, we wave goodbye and head up to the Club Lounge to check emails.
The Club Lounge is dead for a Friday night, sundowners are finished with and there’s no one around except for the concierge and a waiter. We get to use the computers straight away, Jeff doesn’t bother to use the PC and instead just watches TV on the big screen behind me. I click on Gmail and decide that even if it’s the last thing I do before bed I must write back to Kelly.

Hi Kel,

Sorry to email so late, I'm back tomorrow around 3pm.
Mum is meeting me at the airport and i'm also expecting Jason to be there too.

Oh man, kinda over did it last nite at the sports bar, it was 9pm and Jeff said let's go downstairs for a drink in the lounge. The lounge had a cabaret singer on and she was good, but twangin' words with too much oriental for these sentimental songs.

Naturally I pulled up kinda rough this morning, a few panadine’s later and a valium and i was fine.
We went to the Pav for lunch at Tony Romas and then went over to Times Square to watch the latest Harry Potter flick. Cinema going in this country seems to be a cultural experience, lots of talking in the cinema.
I hit up Borders for two books for my carry on and some more jocks from Parksons.

I also found your vanilla powder, I had to buy a big tin, they had to run it over from another store, originally we had gone to BB plaza to get it this arvo and were then pointed towards returning to the Pav to get it there. The lady there was extremely helpful, we waited 30 mins but she came through with the goods,  minus a few dents in the can, which I'm sure you'll be able to live with.

I saw some Brooks Brothers polo shirts that I badly wanted, but I figured that since I had no room in my case already that I should just let that one go. Sadly the Fred Perry I have seen is too small for my body, well at least in this country. I would have like to have seen polos by Abercrombie and Fitch and also Lyle & Scott, maybe they are more common elsewhere.

Tonite coming back to the hotel from the Pav we had a terrific cab driver who was joking with us about the crazy traffic and we teased the scooter riders  and he was hilarious.

We ate downstairs again, for the third or fourth time and I’m planning on having an early bed with a 5am wakeup call pre booked.

So, I guess this is it until I see you back home. We'll talk more on the phone this week, loads more to talk about.

Thanks for being there this week to write me back, I just wanted you to know I really appreciated it.

Laters,

Brosef.

We come back down to the 18^th floor where our rooms are located and as we stand there in the hallway Jeff and I sort of grin at one another, there’s a sense of knowing that it’s all been worthwhile and that even though we might only be mates in the online realm it’s good to know we’re also friends for real.

I say goodnight to Jeff and I go back across the hall to my room. I open a can of Asahi beer and watch TV in between packing up all my stuff. Occasionally I stop and look out the window, out onto the Friday night in Kuala Lumpur and wish how I was out there revelling in it. Before too long I’ve got everything into the suitcase, it’s full near to bursting, so much so I have to lay on it to it to get it to snap shut. The rest of my packing goes into my Berghaus backpack. I prepare everything I’ll wear the next morning, I sort out my papers, making sure I’ve cleaned out the room safe of all my other personal effects. I even call front desk and make sure that they have scheduled my wakeup call and the young woman I speak to smiles and reassures me that it’s all here in the front of house computer and that she’ll make sure I get the call. I sigh a breath of relief, I go into the bathroom and brush my teeth and make sure that I’ve bagged up everything that’s mine into my toiletries bag for the morning, at the same time I make sure that there’s a space left in my back pack for my toiletries bag to fit into.

And now there’s nothing else to be done, I’ve drunk my beer, cleaned out my snacks from the fridge, checked the wardrobe, checked under the beds and even managed to squat thrust one last time.
I stand by the windows of my room looking out at the night lights and I’m emotional, not in a sad way, but in a really happy way, everything here has been great and I’ve loved the experience, I dim the lights and set the TV timer to sleep with a 30 minute count down, before sliding into bed between the covers I walk around my room I’ve called home this past week and feel as though I’m ready to do it all over again.

I sit up in bed, full of high hopes for future and more so I’m ready the year ahead, I’m calm, content, knowing that through this journey undertaken I’m different, changed, healed, better, relaxed, renewed. I watch local television but nothing registers, I stare at the TV bathed in the blue light from its cathode glow, and even while it’s all lost in translation it doesn’t matter, I’m somewhere else, in my mind everything is good, everything is right and I smile catching myself out knowing for certain that right now - this is a perfect moment in a perfect world.