Batakliev's Bloc

Let me tell you about Langkawi. I am lying on a chaise longue amidst a patch of radiant green growth and the gentle morning breeze is tickling my bare feet and forearms. Running water, buzzing insects and the velvety timbre of birds' vocals form a soft blanket of sounds, the morning's background music. It feels like I have never not been on Langkawi. Night after night, in my bed in London, I would repeat the magically sounding word like a mantra trying to fight insomnia and visualise the colours, shapes and fragrances behind the otherworldly name. Lang-ka-wi, lang-ka-wi, lang-ka-wi... Now that I am here, I spend my time admiring marvellous fruits or watching blackbirds drinking from the pool, their reflections quivering in the turquoise water. After a swim in the sea, I stand still against the wind, eyes semi-closed, watching semi-blurred water cones forming at my pulsing fingertips. I pay attention to my hands and my feet. I have managed to catalogue all the teeth in my mou

Jellyfish, why did you bite me? Was my skin colour uncomely? Or are you not into chest hair? Were my swim trunks too subculture-specific? Or was the Spanish music doing your head in? You are more of a Peter Gabriel (non)person, I see! Why didn't you say so? And you disagree with the seven-day work week... Well, you must have your reasons. I know that you won't strike for pleasure. Or would you? I do feel your pain. It pulses and stings and it's making its way into my blood stream. You have made your point now. I know you exist. You are hardly invisible (only a little transparent). I allow you to topple the top of the food chain yet I shan't be walking on tiptoes around you. Nor shall I befriend you. Jellyfish, I don't mean to sound bitey I don't value vengeance as such. I am only asking you kindly: Please, do not stay in touch.