His things cluttering the walkway between the two contradictory districts, disheveled and exhausted, the long trek home still yet to come. Time now but an observer to the straggler's comedic anguish, slowing it's pace to enjoy these moments if for a tad bit longer. With only a sole minute having passed since being acknowledged, John's mundanity is set to return as if nothing of value had ever transpired— or so he pathetically wishes.
'There's no time like the present' a man like John would think in an aftermath such as this. However, there were things to be questioned—needing to be questioned. Yet, not a soul left to provide an answer worth listening to; just a mess to clean and a district of annoyances to tackle unprotected. He travels around the brick wall's short length to retrieve his miscellaneous pens and the like before arriving to the more substantial pieces of his unfortunate travel gear. A few passerbys, entertained for longer than the majority that walked on, assist with some of these knickknacks, although nothing much for most people to appreciate. But, ever little amount counts for a straggler like John— as situational as it might've been coming from him. John reaches what flung out the furtherest from the sidewalk, and past the grassy knolls between, as lies impacted into the elder red brick wall. Holding zero desire for paying desecration fines himself, John yanks the briefcase up and away with the handlebar and away from the damaged brick wall. An attempt at an inconspicuous rush to be sure; the terrible act itself away from the damages shaves off some time otherwise wasted for more federal looks that way. Having recovered most of his belongings, he toughs out his pet peeves up ahead in the 'tourist' district.
The blaring sirens of the district's festivities have started early this year. Proven right from the apprehension he felt less than a mere hour ago, the gaudy clubs have flung open in full swing. Just as tacky as one would assume them to be, the tourist trappings paint the businesses—sidewalks and all—to the brittle brim in flourishes of hues from violet to bright neon. Stringed decorations also having joined in, conjoining all other shops in their lifeless hands. Yet, a tacky hotspot can't be complete without the harassing advertisers. And, they were all there, decked out in fluff and uniform, in full force on this evening. Nevertheless, some still sat back when the disheveled John treks on by. Not for any previous notion—for many hadn't the slightest inkling about this man—but the general mood currently surrounding him is known to be bad for business. In an ironic twist of fate, both ultimately receive what they wanted: to be left alone to their own devices. Although, the trumpeting of the high-octane club music remain unabated— much to the detriment to John.
If the calamities of sound weren't enough to sully the weakened straggler even more than the eccentrics before, then the smelly mixtures of grim and urbanization are there to pick up the slack. The smoke of smaller firecrackers and colorful sparklers outside the busy bars and clubs cloud the musky smells in a more bearable way for some. These musky smells from constant constructions—be it building or road—to the city sewage below, only get exasperated at times like these. The busy gases from the cars on the streets close by complicate the otherwise pleasant scents that these businesses usually try to alleviate in their own way— much to their own defeat. The nauseating aromas compete far more than they work in unison; none of this helped by the alcoholic tints of vomit and breath soon to follow the moonlit night as it may come unabated by it all.
It didn't take long for the streets to be filled with people looking for a good time. As the mood of laughter permeates the darkening sky, their folly harder to recognize through the damp stretches of neon and fluorescents. The congregations of various peoples show strides of glee to the many that peer in through the metaphorical window of this district. While glee may be shown upon each one's faces, they were absent of any real intent. Each passing person shouts and hollers with empty jolly as they parade Melville Ave. in vigor. Yet, this occurrence was here long before a year ago.
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Duality;Solaris Vol. 1
General FictionIt's seven past five, and it's been just like any other Thursday. Amongst the busy roads and well traveled sidewalks, the office workers make their mass exodus from the 'dungeons that haunt their dreams'- and onto these packed city streets. While...
