Chris works as a software engineer in Perth, Western Australia. Sometimes he worries that his training makes him too terse, but on a good day he likes to think of himself as a guerrilla romantic, trying to capture a small slice of life's beauty.

As featured in The Diamond & the Thief – May 10 edition

As featured in The Diamond & the Thief – May 10 edition

March 22, 2010
By Chris Arnold

"It's my Birthday," some bedraggled old man says to me from the mirror; before the tears start to flow. That bent, tired old creature is conditioned to think this should be a day of joy. Instead, I pull myself across a beach of vicious, broken glass numbers, while the air is stifling, thick.

Joy comes later. Flocked wishes bring a soft texture to hand and heart; and later still, the skies grow dark, outpacing the black humour which burns in my head, my arms, my back. Nature swings her beautiful wrecking ball, her angels bearing down on steeds of vapour, lances of pale blue light in their arms.

When I take the animal for a walk, there's devastation. Ancient giants (friends of mine) stand broken, but there is a smell, the smell of the Earth's breath as she stirs from her sleep.