Welcome to this week's book excerpt which today comes from Rukia Publishing featured author Peri Hoskins. If you are a regular Rukia Publishing visitor you will know that Peri has a new book titled 'East' getting ready for release very soon, so what better time to introduce you to his writing by taking a look inside his first book Millennium, A Memoir. Don't forget to visit Peri's Meet The Author page and Book Showcase here at Rukia Publishing to find out more about the man behind Millennium, A Memoir.
Millennium—A Memoir By Peri Hoskins
… Time assumes diverse shapes. It has neither beginning nor end. It is Time which produces all creatures and again devours them … Time is the origin of all creatures; Time is that which makes them grow; Time is that which is their destroyer; and lastly it is Time that is their ruler …
—The Mahabharata Book 12 Section CCXXXVIII
The next day I leave Sykes deep in the pit of his septic tank with Maka, his Tongan labourer, and walk off to the International Hotel for a swim. Big signs along the waterfront tell me Tonga will be first to see in the new millennium. Tongans are slowly at work with hammers and saws making wooden stages. I take the stone steps up and into the International Hotel. A placid Tongan man stands easily behind the bar, large black moustache, cream jacket and black bow tie. Peacefully disengaged, he slowly rubs a cocktail glass with a paper napkin.
I walk through to the changing room and put on my swim shorts. I submerge in the hotel pool for as long as my lungs will let me – wanting all of its coolness all over me. The water smells and tastes of chlorine. And I miss the salt tang of the sea. I dry off and lie back in the sun on one of the full-length recliner benches. There is a black web of shallow black cracks in my white plastic bench. I cover it with my towel.
Young men dive in and out of the pool while bikini-clad women around me lie on plastic benches and quietly read paperback books through sunglasses. A woman slowly gets to her feet, puts her novel face-down on her bench, adjusts her sunglasses, and saunters off towards the bar. She returns a few minutes later carrying a yellow fruity drink – large pineapple wedge on the glass.
She walks something like Angelina. Same gentle swing of the hips. I was okay for a few days after we split. Then I woke up one morning and things were not the same. It was me who left her, and me who checked me in for counselling. And the question wasn’t why I left but why I tried to be with her.
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