France - Kevan Smith

There was a time when I used to travel a lot – I mean snails do a lot of travelling. Most people don’t know that. But, we have houses and very little luggage and food can always be gathered, and eaten on the way. It’s a lovely lifestyle. I remember once after I slithered inside a wooden crate full of yummy lettuce. I munched and munched until I fell asleep, all cosy and warm.

It was a long time in that crate, but with food and dark warmth,

it was lovely. I just ate and slept and ate, pooped a bit and slept again.

Finally, the light shone in. It was a lovely summer day. It was cold when I snuck in here, now warm. The crate was picked up by one of those large bipeds and put into the back of a van. Lots of bumping and noisy bipeds later, the box was picked back up again. That smell, what’s that smell, pungent, I know that. I think it is called garlic? Smells of bread too and those smelly firesticks the bipeds stick in their mouths. These bipeds are wearing funny flat hats with horizontal striped shirts. Some have moustaches, and that’s the females. Smells of wine too, and coffee.

I look out the crate and can see different buildings. One long one with no walls and four legs. The babble. Always the babble.

I can’t read very well but this sticker on the side of the crate has a P and A, R, and I and an S. What a silly word. Funny people but I think I’ll hide here a bit longer till the light is turned off and they try to escape. I may make it out.

In the dark, I slowly slide my way down the wooden sides, along the table to another bag of onions. It has the word SYDNEY on the side. I know that word. It sounds like, feels like, like home. I’ll be there soon.