prague

in prague i only saw the night three times, once when i was arriving and once when i was leaving. that third time was the most spectacular though, when lightning strikes danced in entrancing patterns and the thunder betwixt the rain to make a lullaby from an untuned voice. i sat up from my mattress by bethany's bed, for just a moment, to watch it, and fell back to the floor in a delirious trance. numinous.

two twilights in a row we ventured out to the forest of lakes and pine trees that circulated bethany's home. one night amber painted patterns over bethany's shoulder, collarbones, and the top of her spine, we made her into a mermaid and she played with the slugs in the long grass and lifted her arms towards the moon. on the next night bethany and amber swam in lakes and streams of cold rushing water, i watched through my view finder as they laughed and stumbled through the reeds and came out spluttering with red rashes lacing their skin.

my moon watched over me on those nights and days; he never vanished as he always seems to on my nights here, only appearing when he knows i need reassurance. i think he could sense my nervousness, he made my favourite dreamscapes over the poppy fields every nightfall and he glowed so majestically above it all. he only seemed hazy for a short while, when i ran out into the woods under a determined, upset, spell at having left one of my film rolls somewhere there. when i walked out empty handed i looked to him and he had hid himself behind the clouds, i swore at him.

that night the lightning storm struck, and the thunder roared loudly and i dreamed of electric creatures fighting in the sky. the lakes flooded and it felt like the world had been folded over in half and the ocean was pouring in on itself. early that next daybreak bethany's papa ventured into the forest and retraced my steps, he found my film roll in a tree branch where somebody had left it for me. completely undamaged from the storm. i think somebody really wanted me to have those pictures.

one day we picked up two models who both spoke in different tongues than ours, well they all did there, and i comforted them with smiles between my red lips. we drove them away from the city, far far away, to a mansion house that belonged to a ridiculously kind german girl named agnes. agnes had hair like a cloud. i kept my eyes stuck to the window for the entire journey, absorbing the rushing haze of orange sun and pine trees, dreading the day where i'd stare from my window again to see the old mental asylum staring back at me.

the cloud haired girl's mansion had a spiral staircase in one of the boy's bedrooms, two dusty libraries, and an attic filled with washing lines with the occasional boot laid askew. the cloud hair girl frolicked and skipped down the red carpet lain corridors, tinges of orange touching it where the sun shone so brightly everyday, and the antlers of bambi and her lovers and daughters graced the walls of each room. the cloud hair girl's father was a hunter, you see, and and on the stairs lay the flat fur of a boar with eyes appearing as glass marbles looking to a place far away from here. i lay next to his head for just a moment, he told me tales and i saw his death. he was really quite a majestic creature. i mourned for the deer that frolicked ignorantly in the gardens.

on our first two days we were joined by a nymph like girl named katarina, she dressed our girls in pieces of fabric. she turned the same fabric into a dress, a skirt, a shirt, and neatened them temporarily with a few ragged stitches and a string of black leather. after we'd finished shooting she'd dismantle that dress, skirt, or shirt back into a large piece of cloth, spend a long while folding it neatly, and lie it back into her suitcase. she spent the evening we spent together sewing new inventions and repeatedly folded her magical cloths - cloths who i imagined were wondering what piece of clothing they would be transfigured into next. i used to watch the nymph like girl from the corner of my eye, she often would be found dancing or once hanging from the spiral staircase in the cloud hair girl's brother's bedroom. she would stop when she saw that corner of my eye.

we shot many girls on our adventure, and i gave many more reassuring smiles than i have ever before. one time one of them gave me a reassuring stroke on the shoulder, to tell me that i was doing okay, i wish could speak in the same words. we broke into a warehouse on our first morning of being in the city, and me and bethany took all but three steps inside before setting off a howling alarm that sounded like a pack of wolves in the distance. a pack of wolves coming to get us perhaps. we ran back to our team with dopey smiles before we all ran together, we ran far far away. we only stopped at the other side of the city. we explored train stations and aeroplanes that week, with our beautiful czech models in tow. my favourite girl was called anna, she was the mermaid in the garden. she let us dress her up and while we were shooting i fell over in mud, invertible really.

the food there smelled like home, better than home, and we feasted over the pine tree valley every night. the pine trees made me pine too, pine to see them in winter when i knew the lakes would freeze and endless snow flakes would kiss the earth. the sun was harsh me to that week; everything clung to my skin in the daytime, moisture and fabric, and my throat filled with sand. my neck burned under the embers of my hair, but when i left it bare to the sun she destroyed it's milk skin in a fire of red.

on our last night bethany and her family left us to embarking upon their own european adventures, and they took their puppy with them. we stayed with an artistic family who lived in a crooked house and drank their water from a well. they clutched us tightly with beautiful words and wide smiles and their drooling puppy, more bear than dog, watched us slightly through our bedroom window as we slept. on our last morning they preyed for us over breakfast. we spent less than a day within their clutches, before they ferried us to back to towards home just as my moon began to glow, and it sadden me that we couldn't spend more time in their crooked house. i still think they are the most welcoming family i will ever meet.

on our last moments, our last journey back to the airport, we passed an army of sun worshippers, or sun flowers to be more exact. they stood in lover like stances all basking in her final hazes. i wanted to roll from the car towards them, but it was insisted that we had no time as our homes were calling for us. at that time i did not want a home. i will return for you sun flowers, just for you, i promise.