Picture this. Dense smog, distinct distance rattles of discarded cans, wrappers; a general cacophony of unwanted and long abandoned litter. Mere seconds would pass, another honk of a begruntled driver waging war with the impatience of life in a busy city.
That's just how life in a densely built, populated and - hmm - flourishing city, always felt, always was. And yet, strangely, it became nothing more than a comfort blanket to those that knew it well- without the rush of passersby, the chaos, the noise, the bleary lights invading your every gaze- it wouldn't be the same.
On one of many streets amongst the havoc, John found himself, walking, hands in pockets- a freshly lit cigarette hanging idly from his lips. No specific direction, yet walking tall, glancing from window to wall; searching? He only came to stop abruptly when the low hum of a freshly plucked bass caught his ears- the midst of a sound test- heard from behind the doors of one of many, countless bars dotted along the many streets he'd already glided through. Moments like these often caught him, a sensation, a desire, almost an impulse but with so little need to control or even try to figure out where it came from or what it wanted. Serendipity? Some of his best adventures began in a haze, and ended up far more fruitful than he'd have ever mustered himself.
It didn't take him long to take a liking to what he heard and it drew him in; through the doors, into a new place, new faces, new backdrop- unassuming from the outside, maybe even, what could've been assumed to be, quite a small, narrow venue had opened up to be quite the space. Records and instruments hung trophy everywhere he looked- the air thick with smoke and ash- he found himself almost shoulder to shoulder within seconds of entering. A good sign, always. He picked out many individuals donning familiar attire; studs, leather, stripes alike. So many colourful dos. He carefully shuffled his way in and made haste for the bar- if he were to take a liking to this band, he'd make damn well sure he had a good view.
A phrase he slipped out every few steps and every shoulder knocked, hand guiding him through. His manners never did waiver in the face of stepping into another's personal space. It didn't help with him being quite a lot more densely built than a lot of the people he shuffled past; mindful of where he stepped and how steadily.
It didn't take him long to reach the bar front. Bustling from end to end with more punks, nudging their way in and finding themselves in equal predicaments- getting a barman/maids attention with the demand so high. He calmly rested his elbow against the bar top and waited patiently, watching others around him. Some reaching their tip toes and flexing from ball to heel, hand up, waving frantically for a chance. It didn't take him all too long to find himself shuffling away again, drink in hand, taking in more of the atmosphere. A group of friends nearby chanted and hummed a tune; already giddy, a few pints sunk, clearly. Adorning the edges, tables, boothed, with quieter encounters. Couples chatting away happily.
A bright light drew him out his thoughtful gaze; the stage lights adjusting mere feet above him. With a little time and tact, he'd carefully squeezed his way through the majority of the crowds and made himself comfortable a row away from the front, arms length from the stage itself.
One of the band members echoed across to the handful of techies whizzing around the set, making their final tweaks and adjustments. Lights still flickering, on and off, their colourful beams catching the tops of the many heads in a sea of people gathering around the stage. Every other face in the crowd, familiar to act; whoever they were, they'd amassed quite a loyal following and one John was already starting to feel quite warmed to.
It didn't take much longer for the right tweaks and adjustments to be made before the band took up their spots on the stage. The lighting grew slightly softer, damping down from all the initial chaos of the many tests beforehand. Voices around him hushed to mutters, the room braced for the first song to set in. He took a few generous swigs of his drink before settling his gaze on one of the band members in particular. It made him pause, for what was just a brief moment as the band began to play, but felt longer to him. The hairs on the back of his neck stood, his brow furrowed.
Why did this all feel so.. familiar...
Did she feel so, familiar.
It certainly caught his attention, as he'd otherwise been darting his gaze around the room to catch the ambience of the crowd- the lights, the sounds, drawing him into every which direction. Now he was centered and fixed upon the front lady herself, captivated by her every move.
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