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Oct. 19, 2006 There was, in the lobby of that place, a large mirror, and though it was night, there was electric light. He looked in the mirror when he approached it and noticed that his skin had become deeply tanned. He was surprised, that he could become so dark. He wondered just how dark he could become, if, for instance, he lived in that place, year in and year out. Even, and this was the odd thing, especially, the fair-haired natives seemed to get so very dark. And it was not just a tan, as this deep ingrained change of coloring surely couldn’t only be called that. They seemed so different, too. Jimmy, for instance, was a local, who for some reason had befriended him. Jimmy, though the same age, was such a different person, that just to be in his presence was electrifying. He was part and parcel of the place, and surfed. Francis had never met anyone who surfed. Jimmy was also a skateboarder, but not like other adolescents in warm climates who toyed with the idea. He would disappear for a day, with other local friends, to far away places, and come back with adventurous stories. One time he came back without his board, and explained that it had gotten away from him, onto a freeway, and got snapped by a truck. The apparatus that holds the wheels of a skateboard are also called, at that time anyhow, ‘trucks’ and Francis would have kept them, but it seemed Jimmy didn’t. Jim was lean, dirty blond, and had that deep tanned look, and there were others like him that Frank had met, all athletic, and a bit dangerous somehow, with so much more freedom than Frank had ever thought possible for someone of their age. One time, Jim asked Frank, truly puzzled, about a friend Frank was with, and why he hung around what Jim called ‘ That guy, since he is fat,’ and Frank just shrugged, not knowing how to answer, never having thought about his friend’s weight, but only that they had got along. That small area, a few miles, between two piers, seemed, to Frank, like an untamed place of spirit. He was mainly around two buildings and a vacant lot. While he walked along a stretch of cement walkway painted green, just three stories off the ground, he could see the wildness of the vacant lot. It had a pathway on either side, that had been created by people on their way to the beach from the road, and had many tall trees. There was nothing as tall as the sky though, and the sky hung over the water. When people said things like, ‘It’s a big world,’ he took it always to mean that there is much to the world, as in many people, and many places, and many complexities, but he wasn’t yet at that point of thinking. He often thought to himself, while looking at the ocean, that it was, ‘ A big world,’ but he meant only geographically, and in some physical measurement like square feet. He thought and thought about how big the world must be, and on things like that. People said he was ‘out of it,’ but he felt very much ‘in it,’ and that their attention was too adjusted to trivia. One day, while walking, the skies became overcast, ominous. The energy changed. It became very dark and violent winds, angry winds, appeared. There were more whitecaps on the ocean. He was outside, and stayed outside. He knew that inside, there were special hurricane shutters on the windows, but he didn’t think of what was happening as a hurricane, and it wasn’t. It was only the beginning of a strong storm. He felt electric. He felt without language, or thought, and that he, and the things around him, did not have names, but were only things. In fact, in those moments before the rain actually started, and the wind rushed the trees back and forth in the air, things did not even seem like things. There was only one view, only one field, and only one reality. All was connected, and he was connected to it. It got darker, but it was now a sweet and alluring dark, and he was a part of it all, and the longer he stayed looking at it, the more he became it and it became him, until he felt like an entire landscape and more. Then there were drops of water, and the drops were large, very large, and warm. Warm rain. They splashed on the green cement, and on the metal railing. The view soon became not as clear, as the sheer amount of rain coming down filled space. The whitecaps could still be seen though. Francis went inside. Even Jim would be inside by now, only in the next building over. ------------ Email Brian Michael Barbeito: Brian1750@Hotmail.com Comment on this article here! ------------ All articles are EXCLUSIVE to Useless-Knowledge.com and are not allowed to be posted on other websites. ARTICLE THIEVES WILL BE PROSECUTED! |
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