The extremist

A tale of people who believe their ideas and ideals.

As the leaves began falling, it was time for a joyful break, so as to maintain the boundaries tight and to meet, once again, the learned land.

Received with smiles, I felt at home. Nevermind my tied tongue, nevermind my little knowledge of the deeper stakes of those near strangers.

He's grown alright!, I noticed.

A cold evening took place, while I met the hand of such a kind stranger, so kind it was hard for my always suspicious mind to promptly accept.

The stones and the ice were gradually broken as we steered against a cannon that cast all rainbow colours.

The troop marched in. The captain greeted me in.

Shalt thou not fault,

For my guidance shalt thou not be without!, he shouted.

And he continued, We are the freedom-fighters, the hedonists,

The luring-runners, the extremists!

It was the city army of unconditional bliss welcoming my – temporary – membership.

The outsider I was called, in a language I could not, indeed, quite understand.

None of it would matter, for my way was made and the catwalks of glamour were opened.

Our skins would, themselves, shine in radiant colours. A radioactive star was planted in my chest.

The night stunned us all.

But we were then alone.

Three steps inside the city. Three steps away from home.

I have perhaps grown up too abruptly since last year. Family deals, family matters. If only they knew how much I care.

And as I childishly spoke vain, empty words, messing with the forbidden zone,

as I was still pouring glitter out of my skin

as I was still feeling the razzle-dazzle of the previous days,

I left.

Not moved in the slightest, not having any cares.

Still, deeply thankful, to the extremist that saved my life.

--

A few days later, the metropolis.

The time had come.

I was faced with the monsters.

They exist. They know my name. They can summon me into the dark.

While no hope was given, I was feeling, at least, slightly comforted.

The more intimate conversation did get my nerves alright.

After having a revealing and enchanting occasional dinner, I rushed back to the hotel room.

For metropolis nights are, well, metropolis nights.

I was then faced with another extremist – deployed from the hometown, a short-sized figure that moved all the way in, for the war of love and self-discovery.

I was approached for a battle. Apparently I was stronger.

The endless night

when I made an extremist cry

Many days later, it seemed.

Rain was pouring, coldness was falling; the metropolis was, in its best, showing what a gloomy face it may turn to me.

So I went for my personal quests.

Sword in hands, it was time to fight an enemy.

A proper match was proposed and I was up for pretty much anything.

That was when I met the extremist.

Enchanted by the wonders of the capitalist world, where everything functions and no better standard of life may be reached, the extremist had a vision.

And information.

And as much strength as one can carry in one's heart.

Fight the enemy, fight for your ideas, fight for your own cry!, the extremist kept yelling out, bragging out.

I was allured into the savage garden of the extremist's idealistic mansion, offering nothing else than a very humble habitation.

After a fight of worlds, we swam into the soft wings of fabric, where we shout our very own manifesto in loud, fuzzy, trembling voices.

And a personal, not yet repeated achievement was – finally – accomplished.

Oh God, I finally feel myself free from the cafè flesh days of yore.

Wrong nights, good companies, bad companies.

In a nest with the wolves, I was welcomed with jeers.

For a night, I was the villain pouring blood out of this mouth.

Unfortunately, no one knew the slightest.

This is, may I say, a fair price for me being so silly.

Sun went up.

By the noon I left, for I could not stand another night falling in my shoulders.

There was no point to it.

After battling these extremists, my mission seemed accomplished for a while.

After being faced with the monsters, I could not help but frown and realize.
My quest will never be over.

Fight the enemy, dear reader!

xx

the last extravaganza

Circus in town! the banner said, picturing the creepy – but inviting – smile of a clown.

On the informed night, we headed towards The Big Top.

Lights and pyrotechnics. Laser beams and colourful LEDs ropes showing us the way.

I was falling into the night again, in that glowing circus extravaganza.

Acrobatic clowns, dressed in their finest exotic clothes, welcomed us in.

A few days had passed since I, yet again, had set foot in the eastern metropolis, on an endeavour to establish and understand, in final words, what kind of monsters are living inside me, if any, and how to get rid of them or, at least, lay them to sleep – forever.

Still not a solution, not an answer was provided. Nevertheless, my heart was filled with glorious emptiness as I gladly dove into the dog nights, so as to blur the memories by solidifying the (sort of) alternative universe I was living in. The life I want for always.

Even less days had passed since I, in contrast to the glamorous background of the past week, gave my first hesitant steps into the rocks in the river shore and felt the fresh water run through my toes, surrounded by the vibrant green hills of my very roots, not long before plunging all the way into the very own greenness of the watercourse.

Being so close to my origins and having seen as much as I had seen of the world, those few, quick minutes provided me with a spiritual, near religious experience.

May the cold waters have cleaned my soul. May it have washed away the monsters.

The extravaganza, however, was in the height of its luxury glory.

High-heighted peg legged artists and the acrobats were casting a barely felt magic to the crowd, and the pool reflected a trembling shimmer into the skies. Most of the waters, though, were properly covered by the balconies to be occupied by the snobbish attenders.

A luxury event that was hardly appealing, for many messy reasons, to this cluttered mind of mine, always so defying when it comes to a sharp recognizing of its cries.

/ flashback /

- How do you feel about that?, that high-pitched voice asked, clearly affected by the capital city accent.

- Well, it's… um… Sorry, can't tell much anything apart, I said, while sat on a hardly comfy couch, bit too tight for my particularly large thighs.

/ end of the flashback /

Faking glamour, we strolled around the place, which was getting more and more packed by the minute.

An acrobat caught my eyes, opening a smile so bright and wide that easily marvelled us.

Alcohol was casting its own magic to the crowd as the performance took off.

The music being played should be easily ignored. The wall of performers, however, offered another treat to our eyes.

Surrounded by the luxury of the extravaganza, by the strained glamour, by the marvel of the shallow hearts, we understood.

And in ode to our own shallowness, to our own loneliness, to our own weak magic, we danced – dancing, it seems, is an expression of deep sadness and joy for me.

The joker pointed its cards at us, a wildcat it was.

Barely sure whether I had lost or won the game, we left.

Under the big top we exploded with joy. Under the big top we took a bow to the sorrow.

This is the late night luck of us, my friend.

We keep pretending the marvellous world of wonders is real.

We keep falling in love with clowns, acrobats and performers.

We keep living the best of our lost youth.

We have grown alone. We have grown ruthless. We have grown up.

The circus left the town. The magician has given me no candies or habits out of his hat.

That was my last extravaganza for a while.

I'm done. This city serves me no more.

My duties are calling, in this spot of alternative space and time.

Soon the old town might be visited.

Soon my answers may arrive.

Soon my day will come.

Meanwhile, I shall be heading into the misty way of my future, breathing the bitter air of uncertainty.

But it does not matter, not matter what-so-ever.

The stars are shimmering beautifully in the autumn sky.

As the sun of the Sunday rises up, I feel goose bumps – is it the chilly weather announcing its arrival or the hope announcing it close presence?

Shall we just smile, for the answer is never precise.

Shall we just perform our numbers, for life is a beautiful circus extravaganza.

Have you performed your number, dear reader?

Cheers!

X

top of the city

The city was calling.

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.

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.

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