helpfulhigherenglish

Chalk and cheese. I would walk away from any altercation. To me you see, the world has enough white noise without having to create more of it. I like quiet. Nick on the other hand.... Well, let me just say he sported more black-eyes or bloody noses than Rocky Balboa. Nick waded in where I'd wave goodbye. Music? I'm definitely more middle-of-the-road. He is California punk all the way. I'm drumming my fingers gently on the steering wheel while he's upside down in a mosh-pit. Of course, you know what I'm going to say. One day myself and Nick found ourselves in a situation that bonded us forever.

By god they're up early. I'm nursing a strong coffee with both hands. Its cold. Pre-dawn cold. I'm half asleep. Electric motors in my head slowly coming to life with caffeine. I am an alien. Forklifts scoot, shrill whistles from vendors pierce my delicate head. Vast quantities of fruit and colourful veg are being shunted about the market. Noise and movement and commerce at an ungodly hour. Its not for the faint-hearted. But then I got into it. The smells, the banter, the sheer scale of everyday supply and demand.... It makes you wonder how on earth it all comes together sometimes, no hitches, seamless.

Little Queen [That's what her father called her]wondered all about dry-land. Was it vast? Wasn't there other people? She'd heard her Dad talk about it. Every fine day little Queen would wander out to the pick-up truck half-submerged on the island's only beach and stare. She'd sit in the rotted, rusted truck-bed and stare 'til her eyes ached. Could she see anyone there? Was there anyone over there looking at her? Looking for her? Maybe her mother? But Dad said she was long gone and that they were well rid too. Except that didn't explain his moist eyes late at night staring at the photo of him and her on their wedding day. A photo with a thumb-print from him always holding it.