Written by Rahima Fitzwilliam Hall on Sunday the 4th of April 2010
I'm walking. Past the garden. I'm out in the field now. I know it has to happen. I'm going to carry on walking, going to walk all the way down to the end. I am going to cross the next field. I'm almost at the river now. I can see the birds over head, I'll be at their mercy soon. I'm at the river now - I'm walking along it and I know I'll find something. Some place. I march past the cows with a new air of confidence, don't care if this is your field, this is my swim. I know they're feeling proud of me really, They must think of me as practically animal now. They grunt my way as if to say 'get muddy'. That's just what I'll do, when I get there, Wherever 'there' is. There might be a bank I have to throw myself from. Or a tree I could climb down. A steep slope - I could belly slide in to the water... I'm almost there now, I can see it up ahead. A wild garlic patch and all the mud I need. I'll have to watch the current - no I won't - I'll let the current take me away. I'll undress completely and then re-dress a little when I see the dog walkers. I'll rub mud on my belly, I'll rub mud on my arms and face that way, when I do get in I'll have to get ALL the way in. I can't hear the road any more. The birds are getting ready to swoop. I'm almost there now. I'm almost fish.