Yves. Observance is a necessary predicate of my existence. If I were to have no idea what was going on around me, I would be lowering myself to the level of the empty faces that spin past. That's not to say I don't find them fascinating though, I suppose that comes under the observation thing. I can find stories for every single one of these creatures. A whole range- the stories that are clearly true, the stories that I desperately wish weren't true, the stories that I wish were true but could never be in a world like this. However-these thoughts are irrelevant today. I'm somewhere new, somewhere where lifelessness and decay don't plague the nicotine-stained face of every human within a ten-mile radius of the centre of town. This is somewhere that exclaims in prettiness, a secret energy seeping out from the drains and curling around the toes of everyone who walks across them, and this power, this joy, slides itself up their legs, through their bodies, and explodes in light above their heads. Warmth and potential shines from every being I encounter; perhaps this is just my warped ecstatic perception, but I'd swear to any deity that I can literally taste the hope and aliveness of this city. I want to drown in these filthy pavements.
For this reason, I keep walking.
Anne. When I called Eloise she couldn't figure out who I was by my voice. To be honest though, I couldn't figure it out either- it felt like so long since I'd opened my mouth that the words that came out seemed alien to me. This length of sentence and hint at a casual style came as a surprise to me most of all, but was obviously convincing enough, as after the moment it took to remember my existence and (admittedly minor) role in her life she chatted away to me as if I wasn't a complete psycho who was only calling for an excuse to use her company as a disguise for the social deathwish she wishes to carry forwards.
I've just realised that the conversation is still happening.
-So, where have you been? I haven't seen you for weeks, I swear none of us have! You've got to tell me, I bet you've been super busy...
Her voice is increasing in pitch. I want to break things, and I sincerely regret the decision to interact with other humans so soon after all of the energy spent today on thinking about being negative, but I try my very hardest to stay positive about things. Surely it's for the greater good, that I get some fresh air...some new scenes...some new people. Who knows.
-Yeah, I suppose I have been a little tied-up lately.
I have a gorgeously convincing 'social voice'.
-Well it's just too bad...I can't wait to see you!
-You too, El, been wanting to catch up for ages. Come round when you're ready.
...because if she doesn't force me, there's no way I'm leaving this room.
Yves. I walk up the road at a madly uneven pace. I'm torn between wanting to walk slow enough to take everything in, and fast enough to match the pace of the city. I feel dizzy, I feel amazed, I've never been this high on anticipation, but at the same time, I'm still shut out from it. I'm an outsider, a tourist here. I think I need to meet people. I reluctantly become aware of the fact that I've never actually been here before, and remember that it's probably not logical to first explore an alien city on your own, at night. No matter how confident I might look.
I walk past a club that's pulsing with some weird kind of bass. I can see pink/gold lights flashing through a crack in the door, and the higher-pitched hum of voices leaks out a little bit, just audible when the wind is in the right place. I almost go in, but my doll-sized village upbringing and approach to behaviour convention stops me, for fear that the whole room will go silent and stare at the comparatively badly-dressed boy who knows nothing about what goes on in there. My heart sinks a little at my negatively-English social-frailty, but my spirits rise as I remember that there's always tomorrow. Hell, there's always the rest of my life.
This place could be my empire.
On this high, I try and navigate my way back. I take note of noticeable things - a cafe with a green sign outside, decorated with ropes and seashells, a broken building with wood nailed crudely onto the long-since smashed windows, a particularly graffiti'd garage door, incomprehensible language that somewhere, someone understands. This place is wonderful.
After maybe an hour, I find the building that's now home to be, and begin to climb the stairs, not feeling what should now be something like exhaustion, because I'm too lost in the thoughts of possibility.
I went out, and I was impressed.
I can't wait for the morning.
One more floor...tiredness sets in. I have, after all, been travelling and moving things all day. I just...don't want to stop....
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