Who is the Real Robert Green?
The REAL Robert Green is one of these 10 individuals:
- A General ready for battle, his feet on the ladder – always the first into the fray. Blood and sweat perspiring from his brow; the grim determination of a kamikaze pilot settled on to his once young face
- A glowing youth, in the twilight of her waking maturity. Unsettled yet excited, every day as fresh as it is frightening. Each light reflecting from her eyes, a dangerous flash that could end a man’s life.
- Slack-jawed, shelf-stocking zombie. Till bleeping, red laser flash in the eye – with a warm dread of knowing that there will never be a last day. No final hour. No escape. No reprieve.
- Old, withered with still a twinkle. Still a smile and a flash of white veneers glued over gums that long since functioned. A clean, cloying scent of lavender that is comforting but all too sad to comprehend. Not lonely but mostly alone in the times when it matters. A dark, withering memory in the mind of the one that should know you best.
- Desperately typing and clicking, with feet tapping and red eyes strained from the effort of sitting down all day. A mind buzzing with caffeine and starved of nicotine, drowning in stimulation. Lunch is outsourced to the assistant’s assistant who hungrily gobbles down the last piece of chicken before handing you what remains – wheat-free-noodle-carb-supply-of-a-bean-curd-jus.
- A frantic dash of a morning rocketeer. Kids flying through the car door with milk stains joining the Cheerios to forever be baked in the hot car summer. There’s clothes, there’s dishes, there’s crayon on the walls and he’s never happy when he gets home. To be surrounded by the chaos of people but never truly in motion, staying stock still whilst they grow up and leave.
- An open mouth with words tumbling and circling in on themselves. Never entirely sure if the point of them is to convey they truth, or what the truth should appear to be, to those who bother to listen. With each declaration of opinion and belief, another flag raised and poll posted. If only to seem to be so much less dull, so much less ordinary but all the more normal.
- Inscrutably curious of every detail. Each and every rivet in that old park bench, a sign of wear and how many fingers have traced this crack and what kind of tree did this come from and from which forest was it cut? All the questions which could at least be acknowledged, brushed to the side and a voice of reason handing a shattered screen of bright colours as a useful distraction.
- No time for thoughts of weight and worth. Only an inevitable, hankering thirst. Legs that only know a dull, dry ache. Skin cracked and blackened – face slowly baked.
- A man, fully formed who sees his vision and makes it another’s dream. Beautiful, but untouchable. Perfectly imperfect with a mind that is bursting at the seams with the light of a thousand masterpieces.
Can YOU guess which one is the real Robert Green?