A Reflection - (Confessions of the Damaged)

I walk up the stairs, same way I have a hundred times before. My mind is clear and my mood is bright. I don't remember being in a particularly great mood, it seems to have snuck up on me which is, of course, no cause for complaint.
There is a hypnotic quality about some staircases that is hardly every noticed. The routine of going up and down the same set of stairs becomes automatic and sometimes the room you are entering and the street you just came from are two entirely different worlds. This staircase has been decorated in a similar green color to the other side of the second floor doorway I am approaching. An array of psychedelic imagery and children's drawings line the wall. I already know what music is playing from the steady bass and Brazilian beat reverberating out into the staircase.

Bosa Nova has become a trend in the city, usually just part of a formula to sell relaxation and luxury in the form of coffee and cake. Huge collections of pop song have been reprocessed and spit back out as a boss nova covers to be sold in compilation albums or downloadable playlists meant for casual listeners and any coffee shop where the manager can't be bothered to think of what music to play. Relaxation. A gimmick. This is the real deal though, a classic that too few people, save classical guitar players, older Brazillians, and music geeks have been exposed to. I am extra confident that I know what song is playing before I open the door since I was the one who gave them this album as a gift a few days earlier.

The people here are not exactly what they are supposed to be in the city. They are this song. Sure they carry all the callousness of a giant metropolis. They will never ask you how you are out of politeness. They don't exchange pleasantries to kill time or avoid awkward situations or keep a customer. They simply let conversation develop naturally when all parties are willing. If by chance they like you and feel a connection, it won't be long before they invite you to their home. They might even ask you to watch over their kids for an hour or two. If you say no it's not a big deal either. It isn't just the three story buildings in a city of skyscrapers, but these human connections that compel us to call this area a village rather than a district. Whether you've been here most of your life or you're just visiting the city, once you connect with the village it becomes home.

There is something different about today, just a feeling, a different flavor in the air. As I walk up the first flight of stairs it just strikes me as a slight sensation but as I near the door the words form. "A friend is waiting for you". I open the door and say hi to the boss and I see the back of a head facing the bar, my new friend. He doesn't move except to take another sip of whatever he is drinking. I sit down two seats from him, and he turns his head towards me ever so slightly, shooting me a simple nod of acknowledgement.

The boss, a woman nearing middle age with subtle expressions and a big heart, is someone I greatly admire. I feel a deep attraction to her, not an attraction that yearns for physical contact or an open expression of affection but the kind of attraction that shows no preference between being lovers and being close friends. It simply lets the universe decide what form it will take.

Love is the same energy regardless of the shape it decides to take. In many situations, discovering what shape it will take is easier said than done but as she is happily married and at a different stage in her life, she has become something of an older sister to me and this has worked well for both of us.

I ask about her three year old son, and then we chat for a while about the redevelopment that is going on just down the street. She always provides me with updates as to what shops will have to close or relocate, what buildings will be torn down and any wrenches we've managed to throw into the cogs of the machine that seems hell bent on plowing down our little piece of heaven. It's usually bad news, but not always. Apparently the newly elected representative from our district is on our side but I try not to get my hopes up because the players involved in the conjuring of shopping malls and strategically placed high rises have ways to make sure that his new position is just an empty title with limited influence.

The man next to me seems intrigued by my deep concern with the troubles facing our town. I can tell that he's of the village, or if not, from the sister village on the other side of the city, the only other place in metropolis that anyone feels anything at all.

"You've been here a while? I haven't seen you around."

The rest of the story is available here (free of charge)