Monday, 18 March 2013

Inside the Metrobox

Earlier this summer.

Victoria made history, but a new page had to be written.
So I flew southways, to the tender embrace of family and to the steadiness of the big metropolis.

Oh Holy sh..., the flight took off too late and now I lost the bus to--, I swore on the phone, in indignation, but, yet, accepting my faith.
Excuse me, son, a mid-aged man poked me.
Just a sec -- These incompetent bastards, now I'll have to wait on the terminal for two goddamn hours till the next bus comes and--
Fancy a ride? I lost the bus as well, my son is coming to pick me up, the same man interrupted me again.

Oh, what a dare by destiny. A total stranger, all the way from that piece of messy hell of the big city, offers me a ride, out of sudden kindness and helpfulness.
Reckless as one can be, I just grabbed the chance, unaware - or too exhausted to even think - of all the hazards involved.
The gentleness, however, was genuine, and I was left home.

In a high-standard district of the city, I met again with a beloved portion of my family, but only for so long.
I was being welcome to the best of the inner state, just a whisper away from the metropolitan box.

And there I headed to.

The skyscrapers were the gates to that nearly unknown land.
The night lights, jam-packed traffic and cultural exuberance pouring out from every corner, every alley, served as the demonstration of what was to be found just by digging to the very surface of it all.

Nothing is what it seems, as the metropolitan arms pull you into the metrobox.

The metrobox is a perfect-square zone in the city where all the wonders belong and fly around in freedom. Where techno meets guitars. Where guitar meets northern drums. Where northern drums meet techno. Where it all blends into art.

And I, this little southern boys with dreams bigger than oneself, stood still, contemplating in a major state wonder, while trying and pull out a blasé look, so as to seem familiar with all of that.

Flashing lights. At that point, nothing was new – or was it mind, too restrained to that little frame to understand such greatness?
Tripping the light fantastic, the anthem of that night was shout in full voice.
All I want is something new – alone on the dancefloor, rocking myself to the beat – I just wanna dance.

I ownz it.

On the following day, everything felt easy and smooth. Somehow, the world felt small and gentle and no hazards appeared too frightening or impossible.
Except for my hands, so tied, and my heart, so attached.
I could not move, no matter how loud were the gasps from the metro square.

I had placed myself very distant from the eccentric art of love; the artist in me, however, is not too obeying at times.
And in a attempt to briefly move away from the shadow of the tallest skyscraper – tall enough to make me company that far – I had the confirmation: this is it.
When it seemed unlikely, I learnt where I belong. And for the first time, the negative reaction made me comfortable and thankful.

Upon leaving the metro box, and giving a heartfelt hug to the uncannily caring host that made me company throughout the last few days, my heart was filled up with blissful thankfulness for all I had walked and the goals I had reached – all, now I know, belonging to my very undergrounds only.

On a trip to the smaller, but yet so beloved township of Florence, where one's flowers bloom, and the impossible becomes possible.
And that was where, indeed, a past impossibility, that has long been solidified into the world of my adulthood, suddenly became reality, with a tragically ill-suited timing. A very belated reality.

How can I not think of it? – I mentally replied, whilst trying to contain all the erupting feelings in my head and the doubts of what would be the outcome of when I eventually faced the truth.

Time, however, patched the bruises and turned felonies into misdemeanours.
My charges were eventually lifted.

And as the sun set, I reached the infinite greenness of homeland.

After Victories, Boxes, Flowers and faux approaches of the utopia of Vinovia, there were the bubbling emotions of another doses of life coming to an end.

Finally back to my everyday life, where I can rest and (hopefully) get prepared for what was yet to come.

And as only a fake sign of victory (no capitals, you may notice) was announced, more attention to my plans is needed.

And so it goes.

Thanks for making me company thus far, dear reader.