3 - Beach

The first thing we leave is the smell. We’re dropping down. The idea with the ladder didn’t work. Before we even have our bags down the smell is gone. It must have been a trick of the wind, a circumstance or god, damning us.  That gad damned fucking smell blowing right up those impossible two stories right of the edge of the roof and in our fucking faces then off to god and no where else again on this earth.

He has to “go to the bathroom”. He tells me but this has always been a question. A part of me blames him, acquits my own faults, creates a mercy I can then give, a forgiveness. Was this your virtue god? Is this the height of us? Is this forgiveness? You forgive when you have run out of love. That’s what I would tell god if he were here.

We climb up a wall and shit off of it. It’s the closest thing to a toilet I can imagine. We wipe our assess with fabric. The world is full of things we can use. Everything has become a strange relaxation of effort but to hear me say it, to say things are easier now, well it just seems wrong, it’s not though.
I do not think the importance of being clean ever lessens for him. He talks less about it now, he brings up fewer problems for me to solve. I think he knows I would try and his concern is a general concern, I think thats why he does it, or does not do it depending upon the way you understand him.

We’re not far from the ocean. It’s hard to start-out here, not knowing if you are where you should be trying to make it to, if your where you should be. Fuck it, we both hate the ocean anyway.