At turns crying and laughing, sweetly embracing, sharing saccharine saline and saliva, relief and disbelief, utter joy and the exquisite agony of existence. At some point we stop being merely ourselves. We expand and dissolve, slipping between the atoms of the universe into something seraphic. She licks my tears and declares them ambrosia. I trace the inside of her soul and graze the contours of Gaia. We regress into evolution, animal and archaic, exponentially experiential, presently intense yet stretched from creation to cataclysm, living outside of chronology. We laugh with each other, cry, sigh, and realise who we are.
Nic Addenbrooke is a freelance writer, editor, content creator, radio broadcaster, part-time poet and sometimes artist. Nic has been coming to terms with existence for years. He currently lives and works in Brisbane where he struggles to turn the cacophony of voices in his head into things of substance. It doesn’t always work but occasionally produces a nice veneer of sanity.