Cropped header image by Grim23 under Creative Commons Attribution-Share Alike 3.0 Unported.
Last night, I dreamt I went for a night out with some people I knew. It might not sound like much at all, especially considering how common it can sometimes be, but the dream sticks with me and it reminded me of some of the best times I’ve had, so I will write it down. Continue reading
Header image by Kimmo Palosaari.
The wall of sound almost knocks you back as you enter from the coatroom; an assault on as many senses as possible, a no holds barred light show, an adrenaline-fuelled train with no brakes, a relentless beat that shatters the earth, an atmosphere that smells of everything and nothing. You take a millisecond to adjust your senses to this place and take everything; in this millisecond, every single person you look at is in motion, ranging from gesturing to elaborate styles of dance.
The ceiling is several storeys above your head. There is one floor up some stairs ahead to the side, just as populated. The club space is vast – you can barely see the bar at the far side through the sea of people between you and the wall. Dotted around there are circles of people watching dance-offs in the centre. It feels like it will never end, that it will survive the end of the world.
It begins to feel wrong. Like it shouldn’t last forever, as if everybody should be sitting down, having the last drink of the night, or moving on to the next place, yet nobody is showing any signs of fatigue. You know for a fact that this has been going nonstop since you walked past 8 hours ago. Continue reading
Header image by Diego Delso under Creative Commons 4.0.
“You are aware I won’t be able to go with you when you go home, don’t you?”
I had no immediate answer, so I avoided his gaze and nodded.
It was early autumn; for some, the best time to be far from the city. It’s one thing to view the autumn leaves on the mountain trees from afar, but it’s quite another to be there. But right now, I wished I was on the other side. I could see it; when home is an unspecified light in the distance, it doesn’t seem so far any more. As a child, this mountain was always the first thing to catch my attention. I told my parents I wanted to climb it “tomorrow”, or “next week”. I couldn’t blame them for being amused, looking back. At least I finally did it, even if it wasn’t under the circumstances I wanted. But that’s enough for needlessly bleak-sounding introspection. Continue reading