I had to be
there, for the tides had gotten colder, for the ocean was breaking furiously,
for my vision was blurry.
Speeding up
as much as the safety levels would – not without some opposition – allow, we
arrived there just in time. Just in time.
It took
much less than before.
That
platinum skyline that once would always get me in state of awe and amazement
seemed cold and just merely banal – still, very scary.
The passing
of the imposing pillars may have lost much of its older appeal.
My
colleague, whose hands received my fortune, was attentive and mild, but did not
provide us with much hopeful words – well, in all honesty, I myself was not
sure of what I expected.
At least it
now had a label.
We are sorry to inform you, sir, that the guest
hosted in your room did not check-out and left the hotel with the room keys,
and in top of that we are full, so we have sadly been forced to redirect your reservation
to another hotel, a classic-styled inn with a vintage setting that your fine taste will surely appreciate, said the hotel attendant, just before
answering the phone and telling the exact same story to another guest.
Sunny
afternoons become unbearably hot when major elements go out of plans.
Placed at
the end of a leg of the old-town viaduct, the hotel we had been sent to was,
indeed, classic-styled. If thus should be called such a dirty, smelly dump.
Well, we have got a fridge and hot water.
Everything is old indeed, but functional, she said.
Honestly, I feel back to the 70s, or like
trapped in an intragr.am picture.
Fair enough.
Fair enough.
As the
sunset embraced the city, the heat of the night emerged and with it my need to
reinvent my glamour.
For the
crawling itch showed its power.
Lost
directions, smiling amigos, unknown
friends.
The night
had started and I knocked the next door.
Inside of
it, I found nothing that I was not quite expecting. The same lights, the same
songs, the same feeling that I had gotten somewhere near home.
The city
had just unveiled itself.
Vinovia, so we meet again.
And so I
danced.
For the
faces were so alike.
For the
companies vapored away.
For my
words were mercilessly erased.
I danced.
Just danced to the blues.
There is no
love in Vinovia. No care. No sympathy.
Just empty
faces dancing and crushing along.
The
glimmering, attractive and enjoyable hall of loneliness.
A numb
happiness persisted until I reached that tight corridor.
In there, another
collision took place, when hands did not let go of each other.
If you should fall into my arms and tremble
like a flower.
And so has
one done.
We swayed
into the crowd and became the only dancers of that empty dancefloor.
All
troubles swept away.
All the
lights flashing to our heart beats.
As we laid
on that – providential – couch, I sang. Take
me up to the top of the city, and put me up on the angel's shoulder.
Mutual
smiles and caresses.
We ran
through the empty streets of late-night Vinovia.
Moving up
the viaduct, amidst the dense set of deco buildings, broken by a charming
church of simpler lines, we were heading to the heights.
Why do you live there, not here?
Because I need to spend the next 3 1/2 weeks
losing concentration and sleep, whining about how perfectly you would fit my
innermost ideals of an inched-detailed draft of a lover and what a perfect
scenario this would be were I not from where I am.
One more step to the point of the city, I thought, where just a couple of pigeons are living.
And then we
finally reached it.
The highest
point of the city, where the entire Vinovia could be seen on its full glory.
A breathtaking skyline to be slowly appreciated.
The tall buildings, the skyscrapers in the distance, the towers planted in the hills on the horizon, the largest avenues.
The tall buildings, the skyscrapers in the distance, the towers planted in the hills on the horizon, the largest avenues.
Movement,
the non-stopping activity of a proper metropolis.
And,
finally, the sun slowly rising up, gently colouring the east with soft scarlet
tones, soon to be replaced by intense blue. A new day, welcomed by us, warmed
up by a heart-felt embrace.
In my
heart, we were one.
The soft
wind blowing up there was rather nippy, though, so we had to climb down and, eventually,
move on our own ways.
Back into
the dirty piece of dump I was given to call my "room", the glamour
stripped itself away.
The sun
was up mid-sky. Noon, it was.
It was time
to leave Vinovia.
How much
hard I would try, however, the city would apparently not allow me finding the
way out.
Streets
would abruptly change directions, avenues would lean towards the city core,
skyscrappers would stir aside so as to block the view of direction signs, and
palm trees would distract us from understanding the mazy ways of the complex
urbanization plan.
Under the
back-story of "having fun" trying and get ourselves out, my nerves
were getting a bit tangled up, feeling somewhat pressed and irrevocably choked
by the hands of the city.
Eventually,
the exit was found.
Vinovia, in
the distance, accepted the farewell, which apparently will last only for so
long.
I still love and hate you equally, as always,
city.
Glamour and
the best of memories, all left on its warm bosom.
And in the
distance, the top of the city was indistinct.
Cheers!
X