Our troupe of wide-eye high-top pilots, pupils engorged to the size of tennis courts, set out into an evening of lavender sky.

I, for one, am amongst the already couch-bound, effectively quadriplegic after a shot of tequila to the spinal column shredded nerve endings and left me content to over analyze a friday night blockbuster. But our travelling circus, unimpressed by the floorboards’ aesthetic, numbering five and already caught in the lens flare of absorption, choose to honour their vows and wander.

There is North-East, the runner, offensively beautiful and morbidly aware of it. Even in inebriation, her step is bewitching and lithe. Her smile creaks beneath her feet.

There is Johan, a prodigy of ample focus but devoid of self-awareness, biding his id-ridden time until the barbiturates remove ox from cart successfully.

There is Theo, a young romantic plague bringer , content to be Don Juan to the myspace generation. He has waited the longest to be here.

There is Simon, as textbook a court jester and effective an awareness trap as one could ask for in this lucid evening’s proceedings.

Last, there is Eris, self-assured and noteworthy, pulling with a quiet desperation at her kneecaps while the serpent takes its hold. She feels uneasy.

Collectively we had sidestepped personal development like a dreaded social outing in favour of amorous cultural commentary and the time honoured indignation of the overworked. We took our weekends in snatches and grabs, but devoured them greedily like a whole fruit, with no regard for the trails of sticky sweet youth we left in our wake.

This was such an evening.

Our carnival of the mundane, synapses spitting and popping, headed south. The city, like it’s people, changed at night. Isolation played its part but the alcohol didn’t help. Snarling pitbulls, leashes at home on the coat rack, loitered on corners and stampeded from doorway to doorway, snapping at the air as if to punish the god that had affronted them by swallowing the particles of his creation.

Swelling lights , like fluorescent candy, slowly burnt towards their death on each free patch of vision.


Arthur T. Ross

Joined September 2010

desktop tablet-landscape content-width tablet-portrait workstream-4-across phone-landscape phone-portrait
desktop tablet-landscape content-width tablet-portrait workstream-4-across phone-landscape phone-portrait

10% off

for joining the Redbubble mailing list

Receive exclusive deals and awesome artist news and content right to your inbox. Free for your convenience.