A moment with nothing
"All around me are familiar faces
Worn out places, Worn out faces"
Az i sit here writing thiz in an underground cyber cafe, with the metro train racing by not 50 feet above my head and the murky bay lapping at the shore only just out of the ring of light eminating from the flickering candlez adourning each of the grubby tablez that make up thiz piratez cave of technological soul searching, a verse from an old 80'z song playz on an unstoppable loop through my head.
"Bright and early for the daily races
Going nowhere, Going nowhere"
A young man with a thick french accent and his friend sit at the next table speaking of late night revelriez, the beautiful women of thiz beautiful city and the prospectz of the evening while searching thier lap-top sceen for the best rate on wine country tasting tourz. All the while smoking thier thin sweet smelling cigarz and drinking dark dark red wine.
"Their tears are filling up their glasses
No expression, No expression"
A little way across the cafe therez a grandfather-esq older latino gentleman with two of what i can only assume are his daughterz, maybe grandchildren,
sitz staring intently at the terminal in front of him. With the help of the younger looking of the two girlz, they search through airport information to see when his wife will be arriving by plane that night. A very confused look crossez hiz face az the girl triez to describe how she iz finding the information amidst all the internet "static".
"Hide my head I want to drown my sorrow
No tomorrow, No tomorrow"
Thatz when i notice her. A dirty lost face surrounded by concrete and cold streetz. She'z dressed in layerz even though the night breeze iz mild, probably all the clothing she ownz. Her hair iz matted and stuck in patchez at random intervalz to her head. The stink wafting from her thin frame causing people to cross the street.
"And I find it kind of funny, I find it kind of sad
These dreams in which i'm dying, Are the best I've ever had"
She lookz up at me with big tear stained eyez that told the sad story of loss and hurt and a being of constantly scared. I've asked her whatz wrong. Apperently some one stole her shoez when she wuz passed out at the squatterz camp where she has been living with other homeless people since she came to the city some time ago.
"I find it hard to tell you, I find it hard to take
When people run in circles it's a very very
Mad World"
I've given her my shoez, nothing fancey, just Target brand generic shoez. Nothing special at all.She lookz up at me with big tear stained eyez that told the sad story of loss and hurt and a being of constantly scared....and smiled.
I think i'll go home now. Just because i can.
