Fuelled by the coffee vat and a smorgasbord of tiny square cheeses, we emerge into a phantom iteration of places we enjoyed back haze-wards.
Moments out of place. Memories rearranged. With fragments uncharted, the scent of wood, the foamy pilsner, the lingering urgency. Colour-washed tremors hinting at pasts.
City heating up. Springtime. Emotion brewing. Driven by tepid balminess all eventualities remain on the plate. We bask in its strangely distant rays, settling down. Beyond slider burgers and old-square jazz, we reach the Savoy.
Buried elegance. Erstwhile chandelier. And that undercurrent of the thing always there but gently moving away. Age-old deceptions in even older towns. Geriatric juggernaut through improbable backstreets. Stylised lanterns illuminating gentle hubbubs.
What's the Professor on about now? I stopped listening a couple of days ago. Flowing meander down to the river under spring's haze. Early-afternoon bar tang. Overpowering tobacco.
Piercing stares across paddling pools. Once more the tilt at unlived lives. Skin-sharp glances. Golden glint on the late-day ripples. Conference of men. Bruvva bravado. Much-faded Coke tapestry. Tantalising tortilla wind spills into the forum.
And onto the after-dark. Rekindled movement along Europe's radiating midnight boulevards.
Space ghost, coast to coastBottled urges. Second-chance mode: drop yourself in the past and ask yourself the same questions. Unleashed ignition. Chapeau Rouge. Disaronno vibe.
Ceiling projections unravel. I dip into the continuum. Reality suspended, just when underground. Saytek flyer. Underbelly for erstwhile regret. Feel the sax.
Flowing thoughts through absinthe catalyst. Red-halo basement tunnels gleam. The international language of stag dos in clubs. Space ghost. Epicentre of drum and bass, lost deep in the consuming smoke-haze forest.
Shrinking room and dancefloor. Ominous silhouettes rising from the strobe-lit fogs, before falling, stumbling back into the gloom. Explicit Sound. Countless jumping DJs. Shaky phone clips. Unexpected Darude.
© Copyright 2022 John Maher