the museum of 4 in the morning
It’s the museum of 4 in the morning and I feel like one of its antiques. It’s the museum of 4 in the morning and there is no moonbeam through the window. What there is is a quiet that will not end - a still still there despite my movement - and a hush that has settled itself down, clashing unsettlingly with the off-beats of my still-beating heart. It is dark and yet I can see my own shivering shaking thoughts Hanging about me with their lanky limbs and knowing eyes, blue like his and blue like mine and blue like the blue he has come out of and into my mind. So I bury myself in the sheets and the past - in the dusty catalogues of art long forgotten. It’s the museum of 4 in the morning and I am the only one present. And yet maybe that’s not true, maybe you’re there too? You, And you, And you and also you – At 4am we are all awake, At 4am we lie in that silence together. http://fourinthemorning.com Azure was the new drug everyone was taking. People could see for the first time. Really see. Really see the colour and the light and the dark and the edges and the curves of everything. Really see everything and see that everything could be really seen. It was like nothing ever before. Students were stuck on the edge of something greater and felt that they could jump, leap, fly, soar into a future or into a present, where ever it was it was the place to be. It was sexy, it was cool. It was blue. It was Azure. |
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