My world of ideas has me and the playing around surroundings in the most extravagant air that should be blatantly declared as terrible in taste, an idiosyncrasy. The baroque style architecture, the attire only a mixture of everything I have ever come across, the antiquity and me. The scene after another opens before me almost like I am stuck in a giant, voluminous gut, and peristalsis wants me going forward.
Except this time I thought I'd make a royal entrance. I put on my ornamented red gown, stretched my neck high and walked tall down the abstract stair case. My heart continues to count the beats down, resting calmly within the florid rib cage that constitutes the pretending to be ambrosial presence of mine.
"You are just like anyone else I know," she had said to me.
"Why, are you trying to instigate me?" I questioned honestly.
"Are you just going to do that, like so many ordinary people?"
"I am going to pay no attention to you."
"You mustn't emphasize upon a fact like this, you never have paid attention to what I say."
I carefully walked down the illustrious stairs to a void hall, clutching on tickets to an overture I, myself, am a conductor of. Although, I don't remember being skilled in such a dimension. One of the characteristic features of being human, again, is not knowing what lies ahead of you. I can predict. I can even calculate, but I can't guarantee. I can't prove anything.
"No ma'am, you'll be all the way up in the balcony, you'll be listening," the man in a fancy hat with a cartwheel ruff around his neck told me.
"It's my show," I said with ambiguity.
"It is and you'll be in the audience."
This turned out to be the biggest confusion I have lived so far, the notion of being the conductor to the overture of my opera or even the singer. I took my seat like thousands of people did in the audience. I waited for the conductor to start and clapped when he did. I am watching and should intervene since it is my show, but can I? Will I? I don't know.
Let me enjoy my show!
*The view is great*
Except this time I thought I'd make a royal entrance. I put on my ornamented red gown, stretched my neck high and walked tall down the abstract stair case. My heart continues to count the beats down, resting calmly within the florid rib cage that constitutes the pretending to be ambrosial presence of mine.
"You are just like anyone else I know," she had said to me.
"Why, are you trying to instigate me?" I questioned honestly.
"Are you just going to do that, like so many ordinary people?"
"I am going to pay no attention to you."
"You mustn't emphasize upon a fact like this, you never have paid attention to what I say."
I carefully walked down the illustrious stairs to a void hall, clutching on tickets to an overture I, myself, am a conductor of. Although, I don't remember being skilled in such a dimension. One of the characteristic features of being human, again, is not knowing what lies ahead of you. I can predict. I can even calculate, but I can't guarantee. I can't prove anything.
"No ma'am, you'll be all the way up in the balcony, you'll be listening," the man in a fancy hat with a cartwheel ruff around his neck told me.
"It's my show," I said with ambiguity.
"It is and you'll be in the audience."
This turned out to be the biggest confusion I have lived so far, the notion of being the conductor to the overture of my opera or even the singer. I took my seat like thousands of people did in the audience. I waited for the conductor to start and clapped when he did. I am watching and should intervene since it is my show, but can I? Will I? I don't know.
Let me enjoy my show!
*The view is great*
No comments:
Post a Comment