Staring down at the beer cup, my thoughts are in a swirl. The dim lights in the bar shed a strange hue on the cup. Taking one final look at the strange orange hue, I down the cup. It’s only my fourth cup tonight, but I already feel tipsy. I was never a good drinker anyway.
My brain finally manages to overcome the cloak of drunkenness, and the sounds and smells around me finally come to my notice.
The bar smells of well ironed suits and numerous cocktails. I turn back, and see the yellow lit cityscape act as an backdrop for the groups of well dressed men, sitting comfortably, sipping on their drinks.
A streak of yellow runs through the middle of the landscape — the intercity highway. Beside it, standing like a collection of dominoes, the glass buildings stand erect and tall, piercing the the dark blue tinted night sky. Far in the distance, I can barely make out the receding shoreline, battered day by day by mountains and mountains of sand from a foreign land. Yet the sea can do nothing, but accept it, gracefully retreating further and further — out from view.
It doesn’t take a genius to know that someday that water has to come back.
Closing my eyes, trying to prevent the effect of my beer from washing all over my mind, I can almost hear the lapping of the waves.
The advent of mass capitalism and a mass market, consumer based mindset. The fall of the epoch of mother nature.
Finally, I begin to hear the nuanced tones of the singer on stage.
She sounds good. She has an excellent command of her voice. But none of the visitors seem to notice. After all, this is the life of a bar singer. An unappreciated beauty.
Her voice gets straight to my ears and into my mind, undisturbed by the slight commotion in the bar. Her voice is enchanting, and arcane, in all it’s soft noises and indecipherable lyrics. I look up to the stage to see a 30 or so year old looking elegant woman, dressed in a chic dress, closing her eyes, letting her voice effortlessly leave her mouth. Her every action seems to exude sophistication.
Eventually, after about 5 minutes of further singing, the song ends, and she exits the stage. The whisper of her voice departs my ears, and my mind is left all alone again. This time though, the commotion from the bar no longer gets to me, the alcohol has swept over my mind.
In this silence, I look back to the brightly lit skyline once again. All alone, I stare at all the lights, striking through the fog of night, finding nothing but desolation.