Utopia-blue skies

There is mind-shattering beat residue as I leave the place, rejoining a city surely only as thronging as it can be when imagined for a second time later on... bolstered by warmth and inclusive sunlight, when the energy has been left to brew. I’m not yet smudged by the overcast inevitability of time. The crowds remain glazed by a magical dizziness; the now future here, the boundless now.

I’ve drifted out towards the river, again without noticing, and I’m deadened a little by tiny wisps of grey cloud that are anomalous as they poison the otherwise utopia-blue skies. Maybe the exit is close. I block them out for now – I know what will come later, regardless of any remaining lust on my part. Delirious and worried, I’m snapping all these scenes with my mind, aware of their destiny to be buried again, consumed by the sheer hugeness of days, the special ones formed by the city’s enduring madness.

Still, majestic background rhythms, fainter now. Weaving in and out of what can be called the skipping chatter of a once-enlivened metropolis and lilting over everything. Some elevated energy lingers, to be bottled and stored, perhaps for the massiveness of the centuries.

But because the banks of the waterway are growing gloomier, there’s a threat now, eerie and looming. It’s distinctive, maybe due to the shift in the city’s scent, which is gradually more autumn-smoky.

Less of the full-bloom sweetness. I’m quickening towards the river, rushing now, trying to outrun what I know about fate, attempting to keep the butterflies in my belly, retain a notion of some dreamland beyond what I know.

Drifting, drifting... gradually losing grip on the feeling. But I’m imprisoning its residue. I’m right at the river again, on its banks. Underneath, trains rocket with the deep rumble. The earthquake vibrations give me hope because even as the mood edges closer to something I attempt to resist, at least one staple of the city goes on. But this carnival is fast disintegrating.

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