It’s like stretching a movement of symphony for too long in the darkness of the concert hall.
The silence is only broken by the darkness of the chairs and the rushing reverb biting the dust in the air.
It was at that moment that i heard the rustle of papers about three rows down and a muffled cough somwhere to the left. I opened my eyes to the world of colored forms.
To see what i saw was a canvas, and someone else was progressively painting subtle and lovely tones across the scape of my eye-ports.
Browns faded to elastic greens
blacks to watery blue
grey became a clear white.
I had been here before, it was like waking up in Illinois. the ‘some’ sense of mist in your lungs and the oppertunity provided by the missing mountains created a unique place that could only now be called home.
This concert hall was beautiful.
It was a majestic playground of new experiences and new thoughts.
I closed my eyes again, accidentally kicked the chair in front of me, and listened to the long draw of the symphonic movement wrapping its playful elastic cords around my head, and leading me to the new waterfront of the Aurora summer.