Sometimes, an awkward feeling is not there to tell us something about the situation we’re in in that specific moment. It can emerge from a thought we suddenly have, so to say, between the lines of what we’re doing.
The new room was sunlit and warm, just a little bit too warm. The sun had already hidden behind the neighbour’s wall, its rough edge drew a mark on my balcony floor, then bending upward, downward again to draw a straighter line on the empty space where now my wooden desk lets me write this.
So I checked the weather forecast, then closed the laptop lid, unplugged the recharger and let it rest curled up on its paper-sized space on the table, where the table cloth was gently folded back to keep the laptop away from it. On that early Friday, the summer breeze made the green leaves on the trees shake a little bit. A sofa seat pointed towards the yet empty space dreaming of a home cinema. Upwards, an ugly energy-saving lamp pointed to the ground, almost feeling cold without the lampshade waiting in an attic many miles away. A neat, densely knotted carpet modestly reserved the space for some neat furniture.
Tired of anything I used to do generally, mostly sitting there watching TV on a five-inch screen like I did a few of the evenings each week, if I didn’t just solve a crossword puzzle, I took a breath, packed my things and walked down the hallway, left the building, where the pavement made my steps echo like a music I almost had forgotten. Every step landed at a lower level down the hill, past some hedgerows and fences with green ivy lacing through it, pointing in different directions, straight or curved, thin and light, connected to the place, but trying its best to reach for the sunlight.
Gravelled pavements under old trees echoed under my curious feet then taking me along a side wall, under a one-way street, through the evening heat. The town square, on which a free concert should soon take place, was not yet full. While waiting, I was reluctant to buy a drink, knowing both the free tap and my fridge were always running.
The music started playing. Some ordinary rock music, which, maybe, was not made to be played in an almost empty space surrounded by buildings made of concrete and stone walls, with barely any trees or furniture there which could tone down the echos. Yet, playing is too playful a word for how it reached my ears, how it almost violently began to echo inside my head, a tiny inner earthquake, as if something was shaking there against an invisible wall.
I did the only thing I knew about: I took a deep breath and walked away with just enough care to hide myself in the crowd, then I hurried back home … not knowing at all what I ran from, what I was so afraid of … was it fear? Was it even an unknown health issue?
When I came back home though, I was quite okay, much likely I just called it a day, got myself a beer from the fridge and forgot about it.
Back then
Let’s travel back in time.
Not that far, though.
Another hot day at the office, summer was doing its best, but I was typing a little bit faster than usually, knowing I was looking forward to clock out when the evening came.
Not an ordinary evening. Friday evening, a special one on top of that!
Just a few steps down, up, down again, carefully placing my feet on the cobbled street, half sauntering on shiny new ground, half trying to be there fast, almost hurrying towards the place as if something was pulling me…
A temporary traffic sign blocked the main street from bicycles getting in. The streets were crowded, a little more than usually. I was happy to be part of the event, anonymously standing in a row behind many people who looked like they already knew that the offered show might be amazing.
The few beer benches near a restaurant were hidden by the crowd densely filling the space in groups of two or more, a few children were holding their parents’ hands or sitting on their shoulders. I wasn’t quite annoyed by the thought of standing still for a few hours — well, not really, I found myself tapping my feet to the rhythm of blues guitars, occasionally singing along with a well-known chorus when asked to, or dreaming away with the funny and thoughtful lyrics they had written. Not yet knowing why, the lyrics almost inevitably seemed to tell me about how my future life could unfold, nudging me to just dare to dream.
Between the lines, almost to the rhythm, a little thought came towards my consciousness, seemingly out of nothing: Why the heck was I there alone? This place … could be a good place to … meet someone, couldn’t it?
The day before, I had not considered to tell anyone I knew where I was going, who mostly lived somewhere else and had families, didn’t they? Of course they did, as while talking during lunch I had learned enough about them. Yet, the crowded place here was full of people I didn’t know but who clearly already knew each other, who … all were already taken.
Of course, they were.
The whole world was, wasn’t it?
The very first thought was an intuitive spark.
Something in me said, almost wordlessly:
Walk up to the stage, front row. Don’t ask why.
I did.
Peculiar for me.
Nobody else seemed to notice me —
which was okay.
While I came closer to the stage, the music became louder, but I was alright.
Yes, I even enjoyed it!
A few minutes passed. I don’t remember if there was a break.
However, not much more than half a song went by.
Then … I saw someone walking by.
Alone.
At a good pace.
Almost mine.
A … student.
But … somehow, almost my age?
At a distance of a few metres, close enough to notice, yet distant enough for me to see him as a whole, to follow him with my eyes while hiding in the crowd unless I’d …
Brain busy.
Shouldn’t I try and follow?
Say something?
But … what at all should I say if I arrived?
The guy took a few more steps.
Approaching a shadowed, almost hidden corner of the square.
A few seconds and guitar beats later, he was gone.
What a pity!
Relatable for a few readers, I guess…
One thing is certain.
If my feet had frozen in indecision there at this point, nothing could happen.
Right?
How did my story go on?
— or even better —
What could have happened?
TV series, yes, even life itself doesn’t quite like to provide immediate answers to a question like this. (Or we get them like I did that day but we still somewhat refuse to listen to what we call intuition.)
So, also right here, I’ll leave it open — for another post, coming soon!
Sometimes, all we can do is just sit and wait … or maybe guess in a comment. I’m curious about your funny ideas!
Sit with it for a moment and ask yourself right now:
👉 What would you do in such a situation?
Until next time!
A post about music without any music?
Impossible.
No weekend without music anyway!
You should create daily soundtracks
So many times I’ve been stuck. Many of my stories are about what would have happened. Great piece, Daniela!