Pondering on the notions of errance and feeling at one with the world in what I might define as "odd" places, (i.e. in airport terminals when in transit between two shores), I recall an experience of pure intellectual vagabondage when, grounded at Aberdeen Airport due to seafog, I sat at a table in a sea of travellers and, in defiance to frustration, I picked my pen & jotter. Time stopped; people's voices turned into a summer breeze. Oblivious to the cascade of flight cancellations, I held tight to those sails of imagination, which transported me to the vastness of the Sahara, sea of sand. ...Scotsmen became Touaregs - this temporary prison, a desert & seafog, a sandstorm.
Once back home on 60N, I immediately e-mailed the piece of verse to Lissa in Australia, who, with David, turned it into a song entitled Parallels.
Here is the original piece.
The Hunch
King of senses,
like desert song –
trick of the heart we sometimes sketch,
like an omen or a white wish;
our will to look beyond glazed now,
we had felt it deep inside us.
When one world sleeps, its brother wakes –
we hang our dreams to parallels,
like little red flags to the wind,
hoisted so high above sandstorms.
Indigo skin on highest dune,
we drink fire among nomads,
earth travellers, desert roses,
as whirlpool eyes turn to the sun.
There, in the heart of our nowhere,
babblers gather after sunset
to blend their song into stardust –
we sit and play with our own drums…
Shadows pour tea behind the veil,
we never knew this would happen –
d of the dream, h of the hunch,
our sundial can’t really lie.
(Nat, Aberdeen, 29 July 2008)
P.S: If you ever fancy travelling to the Northern Isles during summertime, I strongly recommend arriving to our shores by sea. Air links may be convenient but travellers need to accept patience in the face of the fog! Besides, sailing remains the voie royale for the true adventurer, treasure island style!
Some never made it to the project. So they now have a new home and purpose. 
