There you have it.

Uou stopped walking. There is was again, that laughter in the dark.

She was sprawled at the stairs, hair on end, skin slick with a head and eyes roll-nodding a scandalising consent.

The monument of both characters stuck stop-still. Eyes meeting, Uou’s refuge lay beyond, a steep ascent up wide old cement stairs. The cold of the night resisted the reddening sky. The paintings in the foyer behind shone with the after hours halogen lights, the blocking figure was a blur of shadow and purple.

A striking and unholy sermon plays itself out. Uou is lost between the interplay if supreme triumph and a new volume of tantalising self doubt. In a moment of clarity, weakness and tranquility Uou lives out a penetrating account of a youth capitalising on an unfolded moment of opportunity and weakness.

A provocative and outrageous invitation plays out. Of Uou and of subject both were soon entangled making way down the hall. As if prophetic, no doors opened. The 4.30am silence was earthshattering. How funny this disturbing surprise had turned out for Uou. This being precisely what Uou had gone out that night hoping for, now the future as moving to greet him, warm and inviting at his side.

Most had come full circle that night. Home, out, home- always leaving only to return. Sport anecdotes, a trail of breadcrumbs and string to tangle its recipients with “pointless inspiring versions of our own classification of subversive, life changing behaviour”.

Uou stretched with vigour towards the walls with an accompanying collective of likeminded thoughts. So close; step-step, step-step.

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

w

Connecting to %s