Just a short piece today, inspired by this and this.
There were parties here, in my
honour
'Til you sent me away.
It's the same as it
always was, high and empty and wood-lined. Stairs coil upward, to the
stars painted on the ceiling, scattered around the silver chandelier
that hangs with the weight of the moon. At night it shone so softly,
catching in the folds of their dresses as they spun. Coral pink and
blue and yellow, lace edged and hand sewn. Men in suits of a blue so
dark it looked black on their light skin, waistcoats with gentle
whorls of paler blue and yellow ties buttery against their cream
shirts. Feet that know the age-old patterns, hand in hand across the
warm pine boards. Orbiting each other, close but not that
close, moons and planets switching places, thrown from partner to
partner in chaos always so delicately planned. The grand lines of
piano and violin, an orchestra so much a part of the building that it
might have been carved into the walls, cornicing so life-like as to
play the rhythm of the dance with their plaster fingers. Time never
touched it. Even now, empty as it is, not a thing hangs out of place.
Spiders have not dared touch it. Dust never rests its weary wings.
It's the same as it
always was.
But life has left
it behind.
-
~ Alice
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