That moment when the music descends and there – all of a sudden you’re in the life of a film, however fleeting, and reality contracts around your vision. You don’t understand why the music does what it does, or quite where you’ve gone, but you crave it all the same.
There’s a hole in the sky, it’s shifting and you’re the only one looking for it, seeing it. There’s an avenue of trees, and an old lady passing by with her history hanging over her shoulders. Worn stones lie before your feet, warmed by the sun. A flicker of light on the water – shouting louder than the babble of sudden street voices that bind you in to their story nonetheless. It all says nothing about you, but feels so buoyant, so grand.
Yet this time will pass, and that one, and another. You slip from one delicious fiction to another. Until you reach the one that doesn’t reward you, the one that stands still and unveiled in mystery. Where you are no more than you are, and you’ll scream at the indignity of it. Feel little, and bared, as if some sort of magic has fallen away.
Where we will all be children again, as small and as sacred to each other as we ever were.