THIS IS ACTUALLY THE TEXT FOR A SONG, WHICH YOU CAN LISTEN TO / DOWNLOAD HERE.

While travelling a few months ago, I bumped into an old friend.
She had changed a bit. Somewhat quieter than I remember.
It made her prettier -- so I asked her if she wanted to get a drink.

Later on, in a dark little corner of a dark little bar, I realised this quietness was not superficial --
it went down deep, like fossils do.
So I asked her, what happened to you?

After an awkward pause she told me this:
Not long ago,
She had told a friend that she needed a little change in her life.
I could do with a little change myself, he said.
Let's go to the house in the country.
On the evening of their arrival.
she went out into the garden,
and saw the most perfect swimming pool she had ever seen.
Naturally, she asked her friend for a towel.
He fetched one for her. Bathroom's that way.
Actually, she said, I'm going for a swim.
He laughed. and where are you gonna do that?
She pointed to the perfect pool in his garden.
He stared at it, and quietly said:
I don't have a pool.

You do now.

The smell of chlorine,
so authentic.
Misty eyed, and oh --
Can't take it? Got to sneeze?
That's as close as it comes to coming
without, actually, you know --
Oh, you're very welcome.
Bless you.
Your cheeks
in neon blue.
You've never got your feet wet before, have you?
That's going to have to change.

Upon the appearance of a uninvited pool in his backyard,
our host wonders what happened to his barbecue, toolshed
and all the dead pets he'd put down there, blondie rest in peace.
His eyes slide over the interloping structure
and swim in its extradimensional details,

startlingly, uncannily square, smooth, and a silver ladder with silver steps
leading down to bluesy blues.
The tiling, broad and black
reflect a midnight, upside down, inside out rendition of every move
and every ripple hums the way only lovers do.

Given the situation, you would not be blamed
for imagining that our host might lose his cool.
But presented with the heaven-sent sincerity of this pool
his only options are silent sort of seeing.
A quiet kind of question.

I wonder if he'll get an answer.
he has dreams every night, you know
about breathing underwater.
he has no idea what it means
something to do with sex.
no, wait, that's not right
it's something about belonging
and being in the right place
find yourself a home
in these specks of time and space
do it for your own sake.
and don't look back.

For a moment there, our host saw his own body as a pool
with its own diving board, lifeguard, and lanes,
when all he's really after is the way light plays
reflected on the underside of summer leaves
when the midnight squeeze is on the cards.

Why has he worked so hard to keep his head above water
when he has always loved the feeling of pressure on his chest?
He's never been like the rest,
and he is only a body of water, after all.
Nature calls. Our boy is in motion.

Meanwhile, our girl has realised that this is not a drill,
tears her hands from her sides and does what she can
to spill him, but he just laughs and leaps.
Her heartbeat halves.
He meets the deep.

Take it all away
Take my limbs, you can have them
Spill my guts
Eat my heart
Puncture my lungs
Take me by the nerves and pull, pull hard
Cut off my nose and give it flowers
Pluck out my eyes and show them stars
Tear off my ears and sing them to sleep
and please, please, cut off my tongue

The pool is gone, she says
as is her friend. never seen again.
How can I believe her?
I don't care, she says.
I don't care for anything.

MUSIC COMPOSED BY EMIEL DEN EXTER OF TILT THE HEAD. LYRICS AND NARRATION BY SAM GWILYM.