The fog parts just long enough for me to see the street lights flicker off as the wan sunlight peeks through the haze. I've been walking through the alleys and behind the buildings of this city since sundown the night before, looking for fragments of human life left fermenting in the secret parts of this vibrant, pulsing entity known as civilization.The ache in my feet matches the tone of my mood, worn and thin, searching with desperation for meaning in the endless brick and mortar night scape. As the sun burns the night into dust a waft of accordion and violin passes by my face, just out of reach, just out of hearing. I follow the Sirens call down a flight of cobblestone stairs towards a golden glow crawling out of a doorway to greet the sun.
A cafe, brimming with energy. Two women waltzing through the crowd escorting coffee and pastry salvation to sleepy eyed patrons. I stumble through the entrance and find the closest seat. The noise and rush threaten to dispel the illusion that the night has so carefully wrought upon my senses and I careen around the smells and brightness of it all, clinging desperately to my last cigarette.
The crescendo of this morning peaks and just when I think that all is lost, I see the man in the corner with his accordion. Tall and thin, he coaxes the stillness back into my world, bringing this long and strange night to it's perfect culmination. I relax and listen as the piano player joins in, entrancing the very walls of the cafe into a moment of utmost pleasure at living, loving and losing. I head back out towards the endless sidewalks of my city and join Brad Mehldau, Bill Evans and Nobuo Uematsu on their journey between worlds of sorrow and joy.
Good for: People watching from the corner cafe, chain smoking and writing.
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