I caught up with friends, over the years, months, weeks and sometimes days or only hours. I caught the flu and balls, light and heavy. I caught planes, trains, busses, ferries, frequently. Seldom, a ride, a car, a bike. I caught meanings and undertones, real and imagined. I caught dreams like diseases and never fish, whether big or small.

I managed all of this, strolled sandy beaches and gravel paths. I climbed muddy mountains and murky waters, walked too many dark alleys emerging in a future with diffuse light. I caught at every straw in sight and disdained them all. I was caught in various acts of goodwill and not so good will, I was caught in headlights and headings, I caught some people in some situations unimaginable.

My hands are tired and hard, my eyes sore and my head one big and empty bubble but there is still one song playing in it. And I'm willing to go on, catch some more planes to plains and beaches, forests and cities, mountains and deserts, always in the hope that the best is still to come. I will catch a room of one's own eventually, possibly with a view, with some more flus, colds and coughs and I will not give it up.

I will refuse to catch any more balls, undertones and fish but my arms are wide open for dreams and friends and ferries. And if the need be, I will catch every straw in sight, get lost in waves and ports, city streets and forest thick and green, in snow deep and meadows high. Because I know that someday I will catch you, unsuspecting and suprising as I have caught friends in all unlikelihood, luck in all the darkest night, and home in foreign regions. And as long as I believe in this, I will go on planning, plotting, catching every opportunity. There is still more out there to catch.

[Inspired by the lovely Missing Trains by Martin Gallop]