Undulating landscape, inclining mountain range, from the tower on the edge of town the boy sat, and looked out – a shepherd for this day.

Arrived from Tebourba, and by the road stood Iser, round eyed in shock – though the sun was bright to his front. That the boy had ridden from Tunis to find them there, amidst those arid plains, alone he had come to this place named Malaha – and there he would stay. Better to be alone and free in this world, than to live trapped behind city walls.

The courtyard lay swept and jasmine blossomed there, its sweet fragrance a portal forever. Inside shady rooms rested cool from the blinding sun’s rays. They walked, occasionally by mule, on dry river-bed and upwards through valleys without knowing their eventual destination.

Soon sheep were herded before them; first, they were surrounded by low-lying rosemary in bushels massive and heavy, then towering impassable cacti, fronds reaching into clear skies. A farmhouse lay on that hillside, with dilapidated vehicle cracking target for whirring slingshot munitions – rocks in abundance, and cactus-heads exploding showers of aloe to be used as cure for sun-burnt exposed flesh.

A bird, quick in its flight and indignant of its peace disturbed once more, the echoes of an arab marriage ceremony resounding still over ochre plains. Upwards more and into olive groves they went, shady and ancient. Around them sheep did graze, but en route to which place? Patience.

Only here, cresting one final hill, reaching upon that march the foot of those mountains beheld from afar – a resevoir, and sheep brought to water. Hosni, tall and kind-hearted, occasional guide – poor in wealth but rich in life experience. So they walked aged paths together, and found acceptance from the earth therein.

That evening those shepherds lay down outdoors to sleep, upon fleece provided them by their animals, and ate together, cous-cous and curry, and above them, amidst a sky shimmering with light, meteorites plunged on their flashing descents – yet only the youngest of them was awake to see – a moment’s celestial annihilation.

All along, this song had been playing, and all along, that boy was me.

10 thoughts on “Herdright

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  1. Much hash was clearly consumed before spewing this nonsense…as usual I guess!

    How does it feel to know that your lasting legacy, the thing that more will know you for than anything else, is being “that dude that Saenchai fucked up in the Yokkao promo video”?

    You’ll say it doesn’t…but we all know the pain will run deep.


    1. For your information asshole every word he wrote was true as I was there and if you don’t like him or what he write’s get to fuck as know one asks you to read it.Try saying all your crap to his face.

  2. Is that “ya ma” or whatever you Council Estate skag heads call them Craigy boy? How cute. I can’t imagine anyone else would be rushing to such a defence, unintelligible as it was.

    Hi Mrs Dickson!

    She must be so proud of her boy; what with taking drugs, beating up his girlfriend (yes everyone here knows Craig) sleeping on the floor, being a fully grown man with about 35p to his name.

    Wow. Your boy “dun gud”!

    Is it Dee you inherited your mental health issues from Craig?

    Not to mention the eloquence 😂

    Dee, I’ve had the displeasure of meeting Craig many, many times over the last few years here in Thailand and he’s a little runt of a man…he may scare women and tiny Thais (doubtful)but that’s about it I’m afraid.

    Don’t worry darling, he’ll soon be home to take up his rightful place living on the streets of Glasgow with all the other bums.

    You have a nice day now!

    1. For your information mate,Craig doesn’t come from Glasgow or an estate so get your facts right.I’m not his mother either.What business is it of yours what Craig does or doesn’t have.If your such a big man why do you hide behind a fake profile.If you hate him so much why do you even bother to read any off the things he writes.To me it sounds like your envious of his life or you just have such a sad life you have nothing else to do but bad mouth people.

    2. The disgruntled new boyfriend of a former lover? Or maybe the wretched broad herself? Haha, nah, just playing around. Wouldn’t want to stoke the fierce rhetoric of Takmala.

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