I kissed her goodbye and walked my way down. No battery on the player, damn.
There’s a different life within the city when you listen. The cars, up and down, an organized chaos of lights and motors, there’s something almost organic to it, although I know it’s just a dance of machines, blatantly controlled by men. Men think they control everything, don’t they?
Posh kids with bottles in their hands. Smiling. Fake smiles, probably. That refined accent makes me look with contempt, or maybe it’s just envy. I couldn’t fake a smile even if my life depended on it. Or maybe I could, but it would feel like crying.
Only in the city do you find these youngsters, on a Thursday night getting ready to party without a care in the world…”maybe I grew up too fast”, I think to myself. Maybe that’s the explanation for feeling too tired.
Maybe everyone grows up too fast these days, and then you realize it’s late, your back doesn’t feel like partying anymore, and it’s time to go home.

Older people. Heads turning inside public buses, looking at the streets, the faces, counting the minutes to push that red button and drop off. Some look sad, as if all the noise, all the life of the city that once looked so intimidating, now rests just as ordinary as that red button.
As I enter the station it starts to rain, a soft layer of water almost unnoticeable if it wasn’t for the tall lamps, illuminating the parking lot. Parking lots are scary when they are empty. I like to think of them as ghosts, as if someone suddenly took their life and they just haven’t noticed it yet, resting in the same place, lifeless and meaningless.
The rain starts to get harsh.Maybe it’s the weather, telling me it’s time to go home. And I’m coming.

The photo was taken on July 21st, 2005. Text was written on the 25th night of February, 2010.
Life revolves around circles.


3 Responses to “Home”

  1. 1 limpa_vias 28 February, 2010 at 2:40 am

    Diferente dos registos que cá costumas meter. Gostei! E a estação não engana, estás em casa 😉

  2. 2 hermano 28 February, 2010 at 11:08 am

    pois é, ja nao somos uns putos despreocupados o que é pena porque isso significa que vivemos com a consciencia da merda que nos rodeia. ainda bem que as pilhas acabam, senao nao tinhas escrito isto 😛
    ja nao nos vemos a uns tempos, tens andado desaparecido*

  3. 3 A Constant Refrain 28 February, 2010 at 8:33 pm

    sinto-me mesmo muitas vezes assim em relação às coisas e às pessoas.
    como disse, devias escrever mais 🙂 *

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