Somewhere Between the Forgotten and the Unknown
I recieved a HUGE card today, from Charlene and her fiance, Paul. The card wishes me a very Merry Christmas, and attached randomly all over the front of the card that spans the length of my arm, are many metallic gold, industial-looking alphabetic locks that spell the names of all my buddies: JEANE, JOCELYN, ELIZABETH, the list goes on for about 15 names, so you can imagine how heavy the card is. I found my own name and proceeded to hang it on the christmas tree standing too tall on the right side of my computer table in my bedroom, just in front of the window. The tree's top pressed against the ceiling, bending to accomodate its own height. It's at that moment, searching for just the right branch to hang my NICOLETTE-lock when my breath was snatched from me, caught in the sight of utter reverence.
A field of mud stretching farther than the eye can see, in this cold, rainy, tropical monsoon season of an impending Christmas. My entire neighbourhood, gone. Just my block standing in the middle like the fortress of a forlorn kingdom. My thirteenth floor apartment standing on its own with glass windows gaping far out both ways to view its empire. I was both astonished and bewildered. The cold night breeze was forcing its way through the 2-inch gap of the window panels, slowly freezing my lips, nose and neck, tossing my hair about and pouring in this wonder of a trillion blazing stars of emerald, ruby and turquoise.
The sulking sky was lit with them! Clusters of colour burned intensely, like Zeus had spilled his vast collection of gems under the bed and was just too old and brittle to bend over to pick them up. Stars all over were falling fiercely to their deaths, trailing their last bursts of fire. Beneath this spitting blanket lay the centre of time. A single 18th century railway track of thick, black iron cut diagonally across the wet, slippery ground, disappearing into a tunnel of space. Couples in Victorian garments were scurrying across the landscape, hiding their faces under nylon umbrellas of all colours that seem to glow in luminescence. More ancient people were pouring out of an urban light rail transit (LRT) system on the far left side of this abandoned empire in urgency and silence.
In between, where the air rushed about in a hurry, carrying kisses of cold tears, were helicopters and blimps and space mobiles fighting for a place to land, for a dimension to dissolve into, for passengers to deliver, eating into the margins of others, beeping in a fluster against the crowd. They all seemed to be moving in and out of nowhere, travelling between the forgotten and the unknown, oblivious to the eye watching them behind transparent walls.
A field of mud stretching farther than the eye can see, in this cold, rainy, tropical monsoon season of an impending Christmas. My entire neighbourhood, gone. Just my block standing in the middle like the fortress of a forlorn kingdom. My thirteenth floor apartment standing on its own with glass windows gaping far out both ways to view its empire. I was both astonished and bewildered. The cold night breeze was forcing its way through the 2-inch gap of the window panels, slowly freezing my lips, nose and neck, tossing my hair about and pouring in this wonder of a trillion blazing stars of emerald, ruby and turquoise.
The sulking sky was lit with them! Clusters of colour burned intensely, like Zeus had spilled his vast collection of gems under the bed and was just too old and brittle to bend over to pick them up. Stars all over were falling fiercely to their deaths, trailing their last bursts of fire. Beneath this spitting blanket lay the centre of time. A single 18th century railway track of thick, black iron cut diagonally across the wet, slippery ground, disappearing into a tunnel of space. Couples in Victorian garments were scurrying across the landscape, hiding their faces under nylon umbrellas of all colours that seem to glow in luminescence. More ancient people were pouring out of an urban light rail transit (LRT) system on the far left side of this abandoned empire in urgency and silence.
In between, where the air rushed about in a hurry, carrying kisses of cold tears, were helicopters and blimps and space mobiles fighting for a place to land, for a dimension to dissolve into, for passengers to deliver, eating into the margins of others, beeping in a fluster against the crowd. They all seemed to be moving in and out of nowhere, travelling between the forgotten and the unknown, oblivious to the eye watching them behind transparent walls.
posted by Nicolette Yuen at 1:17 am
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