To the Light
The first night I moved back to London after a hiatus, I took the liberty of a tube ride at 8pm, way after work, along the rickety tracks of the District Line, to Blackfriars. I walked along the road just looking at the Thames, with thoughts of freedom, completely lost in the dotting of the lights, the rippling of the water, and the way this vast city of millions lies in crevices, hills and towers above, below and around all. For those couple of hours, I became lost in the atmosphere, being pulled in by a magnetic, hypnotic force in the dusk. The blacked-out shadows of people passing by, the endless variations on the skyline, mapped by an unsteady hand on graph paper. The vast array of light during what should be a darkness.
As I walked on past the warm yet kitchenesque Embankment, I climbed aboard the eastern Hungerford Bridge and stared into space. Hushed bundles of people walked past, also drinking in the atmosphere. A lone saxophonist busking sweeping jazz notes plays in the distance. The darkness envelopes it all, the bracing shards of ice in the wind cut through hair, skin, teeth, yet the contrasting rainbow lights twinkle in the night and provide that irresistible magnetic pull. I pause over the water. This is my city. It feels so right to be there. I smile, and walk on.
I make my way to the seat, behind a large concrete wall, the area in front bathed in a bluey purple hue. I sit down and take stock of my new location. It’s like some kind of fairy land. The blue is dotted around in such a random way, a sort of collection of explosive remnants. The lights echo from the polished marble and shine on. It’s a sense of belonging, albeit in only one place, which cannot be compared to any other feeling or connection.
It’s that feeling of being completely connected to a pulsing system, which i’m missing and wishing for.
Sometimes the connection between language and feeling becomes inexplicably bricked over, and no matter how hard you try and break down the concrete, it rebuilds itself and the mind just stutters around, you’re left feeling completely unconnected with your own self. Inside, there’s a barrage of thoughts and feelings screaming around, trying to break free, yet either through unconciously building these walls, or having a very sneaky builder in, they are unable to make their way out.
This link is severed randomly - some times it’s after being hypnotised and lost in a world of bright lights. Sometimes it’s after being told and told and told again that this is the way it has to be. Maybe it’s after feeling suffocated in your own recycled air, unable to break free from whatever restrictions have been put in the place of normal life…
Brains are funny things. They write their own code, build their own walls and stop you from letting you into a hundred percent of yourself.
Blood can be like information, emotion and energy melded into liquid life.
Life is that one chance we get to mix the two together to get to those giddy heights.
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