╭──────────────────✎
╰─▗ ▘➤ 𝙍𝙐𝙉𝘼𝙒𝘼𝙔 / 𝙩𝙬𝙞𝙡𝙞𝙜𝙝𝙩 𝙛𝙡𝙖𝙧𝙚
─── ∙ ~εïз~ ∙ ───
❝𝗛𝗼𝗻𝗲𝘆, I created this era ❞
۪۫❁ཻུ۪۪┊-ˏˋ こんにちは♡
안녕하세요 ˊˎ-
𝗜𝗡 𝗪𝗛𝗜𝗖𝗛˚❀ ⋆｡˚❃
. . a boy who loves to
strum strings...
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1960, A week later in September
SALTED AIR filled her lungs- scratching, practically clawing at her throat and stomach, she could taste the bitterness on her tongue. The breeze sifted through her mouse-like hair, her scarf tied tightly beneath her chin and sliding down the crown of her head as the wind streamed past her with such vigour that she was forced to grasp tightly onto her tweed coat.
Like a disheartened cat, she curled into herself to avoid slipping from her perch on the wooden bench, her fingers switching from clasping onto her head-scarf to her coat and yet still (despite being crammed between a mess of sweaty limbs) the stench of the briny air overcame all, eliminating her other senses with its stench.
Deep breath, salty taste, sickly feeling; repeat.
Her only company being herself and her radical thoughts - which mostly consisted of how much she couldn't wait to step off the ferry her mother had sent her off on.
The ferry was cramped, small, round in shape and sparsely decorated with benches. Her fellow passengers were rounded up to about a dozen people, but she had been one of the fortunate ones who had managed to snag a seat. Others clutched tightly onto ropes scattered around the decks, others hunched over the railings hurling the remnants of their dignity's into the sea and Juliet could even spy a small child hiding under a woman's long skirt a few seats away.
Although her mother was civil about what she dubbed the 'Hamburg Arrangement', she made no attempt at concealing her less than content opinions about the impending trip. The woman hissing her shrewd remarks under her breath, marking Juliet's thumping heart as her own and only spurring on the stressed racing of her blood.
Yet through it all, Juliet had hope that the moment she would be reunited with the witty John Lennon that the horrific state of mind she now possessed would feel like a distant memory. But for now, she would have to carry the weight on her shoulders until the moment would arrive. Juliet would always dismiss her comments however: 'she doesn't want to be alone is all'. Juliet would repeat that, like a mantra, repeat, repeat, repeat. Yet she wasn't sure if she was trying to convince herself or her mother of the words.
