when it's quiet and dark, a technicolor movie plays in my head.
i l l u s i o n a r i
c h r i s f a n j u l 1 1 . 1 2 . 9 5
they say that there is a moment when a person's mind awakes, when the true purpose of the world is made clear, and everything seems possible. in a city so damp and gray, one would not think to find such a light.
ahhh... still rainin. you would think the sky would be just about wrung out by now, but it just keeps comin. oh well, makes the walk that much more interesting. where did i throw that coat again? this place is such a fuckin mess... but i guess i'm lucky to have it. better than sleepin out there...
lowering his paper-shrouded bottle, the ragged old man could just see the figure in a heavy trench coat making its way down the sidewalk towards him. he shifted on his cardboard seat, but nothing made a difference... the entire thing was soaked. he watched as the silhoeted metropolisian walked past him, humming some incoherant tune that wasn't from anything, but seemed to sound good at the time. the old man scratched at his face, scraping bits of dead skin under his fingernails. three pennies floated back towards him and landed, bouncing and clinking, on the sidewalk infront of him. thru the encompasing patter of the rain, the old man could hear a slight, low chuckle from the direction of the fading transient. bastard...
the neon lights radiated a redish color that reflected in the drop rolling down the boy's forehead. they could see the blank look in his eyes as they twinkled and played in their reflecton. the warmth of the lights had no way of getting through his thick wollen coat as he passed. they wanted to glow brighter for him, but nothing could shine through the rain itself, which weighed down the air and made it almost solid, distorting the details of the glazed city in every drop.
i don't really mind the rain... at least you can depend on it. and hey, if everything was always warm and comfortable then i think i'd probably die of boredom. rain, i should thank you for your chill, cause it keeps me alive. you soak through my coat and touch my shoulders more gently than any tender hand. ah, there's the littlle blue neon sign. it can be so hard to find round here. the reflection in the falling rain seems to give it an aura... sometimes i wish i had a video camera in my eyes to record all this... there are so many images that get lost in the depths of my brain... oh well.
he pulled on the massive oak door, one that must have been taken from an old delapidated medieval pub and thrown onto the enterance of the converted movie theatre. as the door swung out on it's wrought iron hinges, a breath of sweet warm air rushed into his nostrals and around his face, pushing back his hair a bit and bathing him in a now common radiation embrace. he was home. he slipped in thru the opening, and the door shut with a dense boom that echoed in the saturated air.