aosid's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- - he leans his few pounds at a deep slant to the right, barely prying open the automatic door which, for a few peaceful hours, is not obliged to slide to attention at the slightest sign of movement. he slips through the ten-inch gap and into the alien sodium glow. he adjusts his scarf and carefully lights his hurriedly rolled cigarette. having attained what he imagines to be the proper pensive appearance, he can turn his attention to the red-eye missive he received a short while ago. the adolescent hiding in the corner of his head wastes no time in suggesting over-analysis but is promptly hushed. elsewhere, his nascent peace (recently returned from sabbatical in an unknown european city) meekly indicates the anti-silhouette of flakes transiting a streetlight nearby and needs say nothing more. a hundred nights' worth of bliss half-remembered seem to echo faintly from the near-abstract image - a chance encounter turned adventure from that first lost november, the cacophony of sentiments that accompanied the hunt for the ideal spruce, the mystery and subsequent investigation of the indefatigable band at the conrad mansion. these cherished heartbeats, that placeless beacon, work quickly to chisel away at the layers of worry and fatigue he was prepared to privately bemoan in response to the lovely little well-wish. and like a tree whose snowy burden has shifted in just the right place and is sliding all off, he is soon a bit lighter, with a view less obstructed. happiness and satisfaction, he muses - those are some elusive birds. and no good can come of a false boast that i have finally trapped them again. but i've caught little tastes here and there, so they can't be far off. and now that my eyes are lifting from the ground again, i think i can find comfort in that at least. he turns back to his habits: takes one last deep drag, murmurs some wordless prayers that the few hearts he is determined to protect can find a similar almost-resolution. he gives the strangely redolent parking lot another proper look, then slips back inside into a dull fluorescent sleep hiding bits of treasured dreams and humble hopes. 5:05 a.m. - 2011-11-05 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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