Untouched I lie here, staring into the dark.

We have been so close, you and I. Remember these nights out that we weren’t supposed to do all those shenanigans? I was there, skin to skin.

From the moment you saw me, you seemed to be in love, forever. I was one of those things in life that couldn’t be ripped apart by ordinary circumstances. I was there to stay.

Now I am here, in the dark, folded and untouched. A new reign has begun.

I was the ruler of a generation of teens! I was music television, bad decisions and your first kiss. I was giving you shape when there was none to be given. I made you feel attractive, appealing, fitting into the mold of couture.

I have been exchanged with something baggy. I was your skinny jeans. What has happened to us?

Take me for a spin, just once, before I am being thrifted, in 30 years time.

I will be skinny, will you?

BOOM.

We have calculated that now must be the time to start a new cycle, at least for some people. How freeing it must be to think that something will change due to a new number at the end of our date.

For anyone not believing in this, there is a wonderful remedy: Liquor and explosives.

Numbed by a nerve agent and something that is forbidden all year, people look towards the sky and forget. The soup of emotions can be a thrill, and is even too heterogenous to be explained by me.

BOOM.

Push away the darkness by a quick outburst of light. What will happen with this new number? No one knows, so better to head into it, blinded, intoxicated or inebriated and deaf.

What did you say?

BOOM.

Wild days these are, forced into hibernation, fed by high-calorie nutrition and fermented beverages.

We celebrate, together and alone. We must adhere to the rules of festivities, it is the law. We are frozen, internally and externally.

We light up our homes and try to push the dark away.

The lights illuminate our faces, our loved ones. But here we are, facing the underbelly of what was hidden all year. The light shines through layers of socialised mannerisms that were carefully established all year.

Some bloom in these times, some are reclusive.

It does not matter whether you are the deer, frozen in the headlights of a speeding vehicle running towards you or the last piece of cheese left behind on the charcuterie board of Christmas.

In the end, you’re all, frozen.

Many have wondered, what has PS been up to?

Mea culpa, mea maxima culpa.

I could blame the rains, the weather, my laziness. But it is very simple to explain, I have been testing out on how many of my dear listeners had a tingle in their ears, that the weekly state was absent and therefore your thoughts, unspiced.

I am remorseful, don’t get me wrong. But I could not let you go on wandering about and never knowing what life is like without spice.

So if you had any withdrawal, I am sorry. But rest assured, I’ll be here, I’ll stay.

Let’s-a gooo!

Mario would’ve said when saving peach. Little did he know, he was doomed.

He was hatching a plan, virtuous, yes, even happy about his upcoming journey. But who would have calculated in turtles that slide you off the plain of this planet? Fireballs, daring jumps? What madness, only to get the princess out of the monkey’s arms.

Some can relate.

I was ready to jump as well, mentally and physically. But yet, a turtle was blocking my way. So I did what Mario would not do,

LET’S-A NO-GOOO