distant strangers entwine

The city becomes tempestuous. Silent rage. Bodies hoard spaces, spaces consume bodies. There can be no silence. The city at night becomes a form of nostalgia for the remorse of the day. The overtones of the mornings impressions lay between dusty sheets. A name of indecision as to how the night will consume and be consumed. The urge to leave the day behind to rush to a new destination, as home, as tourist, as stranger, as lover, as loved.

The city can perhaps notate the cartographies of suburban departure through the patterns and impressions of objects and litters left in the wake of the tempest. Loitering for the escape and silent in their haste such strangers move effortlessly to goals set by elevator speeds, by escalators and bus times.

The nocturnal urban walker strides through pastures, round block, through walls and past through the hedgerows, trying to get to open space. The walker assumes pace equal to the tones which define the faint hum of dormant thoroughfare. The city remains uneasy, still bruised and aching from the assault of the last train passengers seeking to leave the labyrinth.

 Once left, such maze transforms, mobilising forms of departure of a new breed, folk wake, rubbing their eyes to the vulgarity of the street lights, brushing teeth in freezing water. Some chose to rise with the moon, some tred heavy at such burden.

The city takes flight on wings of uncertain desires and lusts, ebbs and flows which meander such unitary paths.

 At night the city reveals a sorrow. A mourning and loss. Moments of poignancy divulge in murmurs. Those who are not consumed with such speed are paused to see grief and loss which the night takes care and grace to expose in the dulcet tones of the blinking street light.

~ by beatricejarvis on February 13, 2010.

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