18 September 2012
I wander the streets alone, orange lights flickering out as the early hours of the morning close in. I pull my cardigan closer around my shoulders as a chilling breeze sweeps through.
Even the tall buildings huddle together in the cool gloom of the night. My steps are not hasty, but they are not slow, I walk with calm purpose towards the wrought iron gates of the city park.
I admire their curled, green shapes, glinting in the lost light of the night before clambering up and over them. The chain rattles musically as the gates move under my weight.
As I drop to the ground the air changes instantly. Fresh and green, lusciously filling my mind with nature's calm.
The path leads me near the lake, my feet know this route too well but my heart can never resist.
Finally, I sit on the bench in front of the simmering glass-like water and wait; it's almost time.
The cold breeze dies down as the quiet notes grow louder. The unmistakable sound of a violin swims towards me through the still air.
And suddenly, there he his - dancing on the surface of the lake with the polished wood of the violin tucked beneath his chin. A crisp white shirt and black tail-coat flatter his movements.
Expert fingers play across the strings and in the gentle hands of the spirit; the violin sings. His blind eyes seeing wonders beyond this wintery world, the symphony of sound his portal between dimensions.
The bow curves furiously over the instrument as the tempo increases, the man's feet move him faster over the water - cutting through the air.
And just as the glow around his silhouette reaches its peak with the music, he vanishes.
[late #household, #procrastination victim, #nightdwellers]
Park Spectre • Opuss № I