You stand on the edge of the viewing platform. The metal railing cuts into your ribcage, but it feels good and you look out across the valley. The awesome vista that opens out in front of and above you includes the biggest slab of sky you have ever seen. You breathe in. The blue is that cold shade you only ever see in winter and the mottled rows of cloud look like the wrinkled fleece of a newborn lamb. Even rows of combed wool stretched out for light miles.
A long way off you see two eagles lock talons and perform end-over-end aerobatics as they plunge towards the bush below. “Amazing!” You say to yourself, only because you know it is a rare sight, not because you have been excited by it. Nothing excites you today or this week. This whole year everything has been dead boring, you feel old and past fun. Joy is a concept you can't remember experiencing.
You survey the horizon where the rolling hills leap off the edge of the planet; the recent rain has put a glow on the paddocks. The dusty bush has been washed clean. It might be beautiful on a good day.
You become momentarily dizzy from the height, spots appear before your eyes and your fingers begin to tingle. This is good, because you realise you are feeling something. Some part of you is uplifted by what you are seeing, but at the same time you become aware of your utter insignificance in the universe. You turn from the platform and walk back to your car, smiling to yourself. For the first time in months you felt something.
You came contemplating suicide - and left elated, having failed at your mission.
* * *
She leans against the safety fence of the lookout. I am relieved that the fence is so high, because she seems intent on pushing herself as far over as the railing will allow. As she takes in the view of the wintry sky her head is thrown back to the limits of her neck. She breathes in; ribcage filling and lifting visibly, nose up in the cold air. She stands there for a while and looks at the dispersing clouds.
Something catches her attention, miles away, and she exclaims to herself, but I can't hear what she says. For minutes she is completely still, frozen into the panorama like a holiday snapshot and I know she is thinking. I wonder what she is thinking.
Suddenly she sways and grabs at the rail, as if vertigo has overcome her and I want to rush forward in case she goes over. But I don't even know her; she might think I'm crazy. She turns from the view, smiling to herself and walks back to the car park. This is good.
The platform is now empty, and I move toward the fence. It is a high fence but I manage to scramble over it...
