Salt Water Taffy & Appreciation Of The Mundane

I got lost in a garden of lilac, hypnotized by the scent. The aroma of heavily scented perfumes fills the air as I walk through the conservatory. Taken aback by the beauty of the florals and overall architecture of the building, I find a seat near the solarium centre. Looking down at my watch, I note the time and rush home to get ready. After a hectic week of deadlines and conference calls, I needed to decompress… recharge if you will. This evening, Chuck I will be heading to the Molson Amphitheatre to attend the Florence + The Machine concert. IMG_6107

With a rush of adrenaline and veins pooling with merlot, I made the commute across town to the lakefront. Approaching the venue, hundreds of similarly dressed individuals walked to the gates. I was about to see Florence + The Machine take the stage. As the opening act (Of Monsters and Men) plays in the distance, my heart races for what is to come. A falling crescent moon hangs overhead, casting a glow onto the audience. Tinted lights shone on the crowd as smoke emits from the stage. With a seemingly whimsical walk, Florence takes centre. As the sounds of Florence echoed the concert hall, I leaned my head back and let the melody guide my movement and breath. With a tug on my wrist, I felt you pull me out of my trance. “Come on!” Chuck said, as he grabbed my wrist and pulled me through the crowd. A smile stretched across my face. “Run fast for your mother, run fast for your father”. The summer breeze grazed my cheek. “Run for your children, for your sisters and brothers”. Stopping at the front of the gate, you pull my waist in. The smile on your lips and the excitement in your eyes.  Feeling you close, the music dissipates into the wind and this moment becomes just about us. We are dancing alone in your apartment listening to Florence, no one is here but us. He dances around my mind as foreign fingers interlace with my own. A grip to feel, and a body to hold, we make love to the stars.

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Peering into my new empty coffee cup, a grimace comes over my face as I trudge to the kitchen for another pot. In order to save money for more important purchases, groceries, rent, YSL Wyatt Boots, I began to make my own coffee. I use the word “make” rather loosely, as the extent of my coffee making abilities stems from placing a K-Cup into a Keurig machine and pressing brew. As the acidic scent of my Starbucks pike fills the kitchen, I think about all of the local shops in the area. With Starbucks taking residence on every street corner, it seems that there are more coffee beans than people in the city. As past thoughts begin to overcrowd my brain, the memories of last summer come clear into sight. I found that he was like Starbucks in a metropolitan city, redundant and around every corner. It came time where I grew tired of familiarity and decided to try local: unfamiliar, undiluted, and everything that he was not.

I cannot help but dwindle on the past, dwindle on lost circumstance and old wounds. How is it that I can feel so damaged yet this whole moment feels so right? I lay here wounded yet I cannot bleed. Wounds bandaged up by calloused hands and unknown possibilities. As the day moves into night, we find ourselves together. We are not dancers but our bodies beg to differ. The beat echoes through the dark electrifying our skin and pushing hot breath onto my ear.

Heat, pressure, grip, and bite, nails drag along the skin.

A delicate dance built out of the mundane. I didn’t care if it was for a minute, for a day, or for a lifetime, for what we created was perfect and I did not want it to end.

FullSizeRender 17To find something new and unfamiliar in a city so used and overseen, it becomes quite the feat and maintains prominence. There is no direct route to a new understanding or even a grasp on the concept of change. There are no landmarks on an undiscovered land, for there are no maps for uncharted territory. Throwing away the map, I threw away my inhibitions. Rolled down the window as we drove down the metaphorical freeway. Sun shades, tanned skin, wind beating across my cheeks. Remember when you crashed? The once uninhibited wind was now still, hovering near the wreckage that we created. You were left with broken limbs and I left with stitches. All these years I had found myself speaking to shadows for answers and people for lies. Holding on to a dismantled view of romanticism, I finally learned to walk freely; No maps, no guide, just intuition.

As the night comes to an end, I hail an uber. Saying goodbye, we embrace.

The driver asked who you were, I took a moment before responding and paused. “A question mark”, I responded and shut the door. With no interior lighting, the car quickly absorbed the night, for the only light is what illuminates the dashboard.

Pulling a bag of salt water taffy out of my bag, I begin to eat. Passing a colourful candy to the driver, he delightfully accepts this late night treat.

I have exactly everything that I wanted, but now what? I said to myself as the sounds of the blinker lull in the background. With a mouth full of salt water taffy, I stared into the night sky.

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