In the limited width of the sidewalk, she was nearly falling down, dragging herself from one gutter to the other. As she tried to gain pace throughout the embedded with pessimism and with begging-to-be-pitied fuckers, she took a glance at the resisting shapes that marked the limits between one tile to the other, on the sidewalk.
She was wearing a short black dress, now completely wet with the rage of the rain that was hitting her during the last hour, for the least. Now, as the constant presence of the water made her quite unaware of the resisting actions of the clouds above her, something started fevering her. It was something quite child-ish and which made her once bright brown eyes stay closed longer than they used to. The recounting of her childhood, however, wasn’t the main cause of it - it was that rush, that instant shot which felt as a generous shot of cocaine or amphetamines pumping through her thin veins. But it wasn’t anything of such nature - she was in having a overdose of something which was far from being synthetic, even if nurtured by the city and its hymn to the continuous movement.
It wasn’t something light, but she was handling that feeling very well, and it was making her attain some energy to reach the nearest bar, for some coffee and cigarettes. As she enjoyed that pleasantness which fueled her head with some old wonder, she suddenly realized that, even though the let down of all the numbness around her wouldn’t ever go away - not in times like these, for sure - and the stupid assholes wouldn’t ever give her and her kind of ideals nothing worth more than a minute alone with her own self, she felt happy by this force building up rapidly and vastly inside of her.
No, to speak of its speed is to limit it - and she wouldn’t do so, as she knew what that kind of force meant. It wouldn’t leave her - it does not leave one when one allows to enjoy the tools and paths which it provides - but it certainly could not be worthy of the everyday misunderstandings and understatements of the growing darkness around it. It was not being suffocated - was just fluctuating and working as a dense and fundamental reminder of what really could do, if only exploited and accepted.
But, for such to happen, one must learn freedom and self-respect - and they forget to teach that to us at school, she thought, as the drank with strange and sudden tension her coffee, feeling its heat and its bitterness invading her throat, and ordering another one just so she could get used to it, as she was with her clothes gripping in her unprotected skin by the action of the rain.
Citação: Bud Powell - Sub City
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