naive reflections
Sitting in the tramway, late at night, almost alone in the coach, looking out into the night, into streets with grey lines passing by. It is cold and wet, still raining as it has been all day long, and although the tramway is an illuminated dry island moving through silent streets, it is of little comfort. Dark, wet hands knock on the windows, embrace the moving glass and steel shelter and wait until their time has come to get hold of the passenger again.
The sky is dark, with clouds hanging over the roofs like thick, cheap motel carpets. The streets below are reflecting the light coming from shop windows, with plastic people wearing the clothes of tomorrow. Guarded and fenced they stand in strange poses, headless, faceless, polyester women wearing the most expensive fabrics with wool from sheep grasing at the slopes of the Himalayan mountains. Their emotionless pale faces gleam as they stand under artifical suns, herolds of this season’s colours, without noticing that they are wearing already the dresses of the past, while the next season’s dreams are produced in far away places.
Perfumeries fight the pouring rain with beautiful faces, staring at innocent night travellers. Unreal beauties, holding bottles filled with the elixirs of passion. They sell a dream of yesterday to citizens of today, citizens who live a life as safe as never before. Because they became consumers. Consumers are cared for and guarded. The fragrant beauties in the shop know their consumers. Their eyes shine into the night, they promise with every detail of their immaculate bodies paradise coming true. Flakons with golden fluids wait patiently for tomorrow, waiting for a soul in search of pleasure. Tomorrow they will be caressed again, sending ephemeral pictures of tropical flowers into a grey day, fulfilling teanager dreams and liberating shy wishes.
Tonight, the rain washes away the last petals of these delights, leaving the 2-dimensional beauties by themselves, behind crystal windows, dreaming their silent dream of paradise.
August 31st, 2006 at 5:27 pm
Dark, lovely, hopeful, deeply melancholic.
Warm yourself in the embers of memory, and friendship…
August 31st, 2006 at 7:48 pm
ahhh well…when riding home in my alu tramway, I really felt a little bit melancholic, I have to admit. It is automn that I can feel in my bones and brain already. I warmed myself with a good brandy…
September 1st, 2006 at 12:29 am
Good brandy,Armagnac,or aged single malt…[oh, and Calvados, Poire Williams, Quetsch !]
Wonderful, whether you imbibe them, or incorporate them into scent…