This week’s words: Monarch Dance Fragrant Orange Culpable (blameworthy) Tantalize Oblivion Garden Extremity Phosphenes (a luminous image produced by mechanical stimulation of the retina, as by pressure applied to the eyeball by the finger when the lid is closed.) Pinch Supine (lying on the back, face or front upward)

He had to pinch himself, from the supine position he found himself in, that the thought of the adventure being over had been dancing before his eyes in ways best described as tantalising to say the least.

Could it be true he thought that after all this time he was back where he had started.

There wasn’t just one phosphene dancing before his eyes but several: crowded Roman cobblestoned pathways with vulgar little men wanting to sell him all kinds of useless things from minute Eiffel Towers to hand bags to jewellery and small medieval streets thronging with tourists all bent on discovery and finding that one off unique bargain whilst wondering what you might do should you find such a thing in terms of carrying it home with you through customs.

The revelations that came to light daily as to the lives and practices of the respective monarchs over the ages who were often far from benevolent more likely to whip your head off in some extreme act to prove a point. The even more malicious taking a delight in the torture it might inflict on one’s extremities, the sort of thought that simple made your eyes water considering it.

In a moment of what might be described as culpable memory, the lunatic street riders of Amsterdam leapt into his consciousness. Their orange nationalistic colours resplendent on their back rode without fear around streets teeming with visitors oblivious to the danger crossing any street presented to you.

But in quieter moments the fragrant gardens of Innsbruck floated by his consciousness as he tried to remember what day it was left alone what time of day his body thought it should be.

Was this jet lag he asked himself considering the advantages of being supine when such thoughts emerged, falling down in a stupor of sleep fullness should best be considered from a horizontal position. He shuddered as another phosphene flashed past his consciousness, of a poor dirty woman in Florence begging for a few coins to support the same image of destitution he had seen earlier in the day in Rome.

It was getting late and so the less he thought, the less pressure there was and it was better to allow ones brain to dance in fragrant bliss rather than question the possible extreme thought of his own growing culpableness in producing some thought in an ever increasingly tantalising coherent garden of literary dance.

Written for: https://mindlovemiserysmenagerie.wordpress.com/2015/05/04/wordle-59-may-4-2015%E2%80%B3/