Old Pipe Magpie# 27

The view was breath taking and everything in her stopped to take it in. The last few weeks had drained her deep down to her very soul and now with the beauty of the Italian lake in front of her, she knew she had been right to come here, to heal her mind. She took a look around the room, it was perfect and the pastel shades that made up the furnishings were soothing too. She opened the old oak wardrobe and started to hang up her clothes, too big now after all the weight she had lost, but in her hurried escape from London there was no time for shopping and as she thought, 'Italy was the country of haut couture, there was bound to be a small fashionable boutique in the local town. Money was no longer a problem what was the point of saving it?'

The small garden around the cottage had a table and chairs set out on a raised paved area overlooking the lake. Sitting there with the scent of the garden and the lake shimmering in the sunlight all her worries and cares seemed to be far away. 'Breathe in that air,' she thought, 'it could heal it was so clear and pure.'

The cottage was an old boathouse and part of a larger estate, perhaps there was a boat she could use, although would she be strong enough to row? she wondered.

She could see the steps down to the landing stage that protruded under the boathouse and making her way down them under the boathouse, she saw the cobwebs of years draped like curtains from  white beams, washed by the water of the lake. And there in the corner an old corroded water pipe, dirty and rusty. It was disgusting in contrast and spoiling the beautiful surrounds, just like the growth inside her; spoiling her, repulsive and old. She shivered and tears trickled down her face.

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