To answer yesterday’s question, it seems the soulless future may be inevitable.
Lines stretch out down the block. High heels are dispersed throughout the crowd, along with tight jeans and floral tops. Men‘s shirts are unbuttoned deeper than the dresses made to reveal women’s cleavage. The line outside of a club is a graphic presentation of modern dating. Shells walk into the venues and are filled with liquor, music, and escape — becoming whole for a moment. The real emptiness beats with every bass drop and is hidden behind a facade of ecstasy.
The line breeds anticipation and promises bliss: just enter and be fulfilled. After stepping in, there is a moment of pause. The crowd moves to robotic pulses and groups amass at the bar. Liquor is one of the lubrications of the club; the other is at the doors — readying you for the degradation. The seduction of the wait is used to bring you to your knees, to cause you to want it even more. What is it that you want? It is the lie waiting inside.
It took one day to realize the truth of Brisbane. It wasn’t as pure and authentic as was initially believed. Hope has a way of obscuring the truth if it is grasped too tightly. After letting go of hopeful anticipation, reality set in. Materiality had consumed parts of Brisbane as well. Like a virus, it would spread throughout the city.
Next: The Gold Coast
