Stories From the CrowBar: The Inconspicuous

In English, Stories From the CrowBar, Story by Thom CorbeauxLeave a Comment

After a few ventures into the realm of short lines and scarcely populated sentences I’d like to treat you to a story-of-mine, or should I say a reel of images, which whisked in front of my eyes when I visited the town I come from. I don’t go back there often. There are a few reasons why, but I won’t bore you with those. I’d rather like you to sit back and enjoy the John Hughes’ inspired band of misfits dreamscape.
penny-serenade

“We’ve serenaded the streets in the most flattering way.”

They’ve been sighing the entire time we moved through its cobble stone veins. Every moment began to stand out from the other. Every sip, bite or touch had a meaning of its own. Every conversation was filled with substance.

Sensual stares and loud cries of laughter were overshadowed by a pendulum we couldn’t hear ticking. Seven, turning into four. Four turning into one.

“There’s always somebody who gets left behind and has to clean up the mess.”

Every city has a testimony. A memento engraved into your memory recalled instantly upon looking back over your shoulder.
Bonding with a place isn’t uncommon.
It can influence your entire perception.
It can strip you of freedom forever.
It can hypnotize you by its architecture, culture and most importantly its people.
Certainly, the very opposite can occur – you can’t wait to get out.
Whatever it is, how much you love or hate the urban postures of people walking right past you, the contrasts of local cuisine, inviting bouquets of concealed wineries and dissimilar cloud shapes it’s always boiled down to a either of the two choices left.

“You either want to return at all cost or make it an always-visa-demanding-state.”

It’s not as black and white as I’m painting it. Let’s use color and paint the town red. You don’t have to bother with mixing. There’s always a new shade to explore. But beware, each and every time you are exposed to a new experience you’re put on trial whether or not you will walk away with an impression worthy of a journal entry.

Nonetheless, it comes down to the very essence of what I’ve eluded so far in this contemplation of mine – People. They can turn things around. Give reason to things lost in translation. Spark ideas.

“Persuade the fleeing moment to reconsider turning its back on the party.”

I still think the valley is as sad as before, hence, my attitude towards it remains unchanged. What made me forget the moorish winds and desolation were the people there with me.

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