I could see its glow in the distant. The incandescent lights creating a luring haze. It was so far away, too far in fact. I missed it a lot. The concrete beneath my feet. The harsh air, the noise, the traffic. Most of all the people, the endless throb of people. Out here it’s only a sky, sky that’s way too big and empty. It makes you feel too small. A city may be big; you may feel meaningless but at least your part of something bigger. Out here you realise that there isn’t anything bigger. Just you. Everything begins and ends with you. That’s the scary thing. In the city we see connections everywhere. Then from a distance all you see is absurdity and chance. You see the truth. That’s what’s so horrible about being out here, truth.

The city lights hide the stars just as much as they hide the truth I suppose. Out here there’s no room for ritual or routine. No distractions from the endless stream of news and pictures and communication. No contact, just alone. Nothing solid to stand on. No new product to lust after or some drug to numb yourself with. Just thought. I suppose from thought we get truth. In truth we see our own passivity to life, which is pretty depressing. So we long for the city again to distract ourselves and live in whatsoever fashion we please. Valuing the cohesion of everydayness. I live indifferent like everyone else does. Only sometimes feeling a slight recoil as I wake up, I lull myself with nostalgia, rejecting any quiver, feeling blissful in my ignorance.

The reason I left is just part of the absurdity of life. I left the stage to go sit in the audience. The show goes on. I am now just abstract. Like those outer body experiences people describe. I seemingly float above the city. A mere observer. I’m more than that though I realise. I know how the show ends. Hence why I sit so far. I’ve come to see the logic come to its bitter conclusion. Perhaps I thought I’d find god. I found something much worse though, I found myself. A self at its most obscene, masterless and without tragedy.

A small metallic whizz drones over head, lured like a moth, to the cities bright haze. My eyes are drawn too. A seemingly helpless black form drops out of the black vastness. It falls and I’m aware of the steady beat of my heart. The plunge of the black object goes into the mass of buildings and is lost. A sound so strange like all the air is being sucked into the city. It resonates around me and I feel its power as a bright flower like all god angles have ridden from heaven engulfs all, non-judging. A splendid show that billows up and into itself. Now the flower blooms reds and oranges with a symphony, like the rings of Saturn brought to earth. I think not, I am burnt and crucified, but not forsaken. The warming glow rushes towards me, sweeping away the cold landscape with its heat. Open armed I stand ready to embrace my fate. Then I am aware of the steady beat of my heart. Thought returns. The logic seems at fault. It is too late.