Wednesday, 31 August 2011

There, there, Bridget.

Ocean pulls me close and whispers in my ear
The destiny I've chose, all becoming clear
The currents have their say, the time is drawing near
Washes me away
Makes me disappear
Today is nice. It's cozy. It's been raining since about six this morning and I am sipping from my second coffee of the day on the covered deck off the master stateroom. Caleb calls it the Sweet. I believe he is attempting a play on words (suite) but that one is just so clumsy and awkward. He should stick to remaining crystal-clear and forthright instead of clever.

He should stick to being evil instead of being nice.

It would make things easier.

He is, as they say, an opportunist.

I still say he is the Devil. He will say those are just the unchecked fears of a child talking, and that everything will be just fine.

But he's smiling when he says this, and that's how you know he lies.