Soul City in Purple
It’s a weirdly cold evening for the late days of June. “Destruction of the disgusting ugly hate” fills my ears as my strange outfit and purple lipstick catch eyes. Although it’s the sunset and the city is full of light, my sweater barely manages to warm me. Soko, did you write your songs on a weather like this? They sound very much like it.
It had rained for two hours, exactly when I was peacefully sleeping and hearing thunderstorms in my dreams. The only remaining proof of rain is the water splashed across the asphalt. My long, black dress almost touches the ground when it whirls because of the wind, every time I walk past the water. My tote bag is out of context, just like the weather. It’s a strange feeling I have, I feel good having two contrasting pieces of clothing on my body. I don’t even care that I will forever wait for the tram.
It's a constant sense of peace I’m going through right now, even though my melancholy never goes away. The sky is filled with light, still. Only now it’s a shade of purple. My mind is blending in the landscape, as I remember all the times I’ve been disappointed, pleasantly surprised or just happy. Oh, how I like to float in this violet sea, as my dress never stays still. It’s as if I’m flying. In my head, I actually am. Too bad I’m standing in the middle of my beloved city, without being able to fight gravity. For a moment, though, I close my eyes. I reach for something to hold on to, but my hands only find some cold, hurried air. Here I am, in a lonely station that seems so far away from everything familiar, although I know this city by heart. My heart wanders in some unknown places, which I cannot define nor locate, thus my feeling of alienation.
What am I here for? I forgot, silly me. But what’s the point of all of this? Does “the point” actually matter? Existential as it may seem, these questions collide in my mind, my eyes emptied out of emotion as I gently hug myself, seeking some heat, surrounded by this cold, humid air.
Foto: Raluca Tonea