The person who tries to live alone will not succeed as a human being

[tezcatl-ipoca.livejournal.com]

Sunday Nov 15th
Afternoon
Outside the Misktonic

I'm missing the Diabolique. Perhaps it's living where I can hear every morning the sound of people rising, coughing, talking, their feet loud on the stairs: lives going on in their own small orbits while I lie in the dimness of my room and breathe and think and reach out, in loneliness, for the feel of Iblis and Syl and Genny. I miss company, if not companionship - familiar faces, a nod over coffee, lives and shelves entwined with mine, known to me. I miss the crowds, as well, the endless strangeness and newness of the carnival on the road.

I miss, as well, the ease of it, of not having to worry every moment what's happening elsewhere and to whom. The lack, I suppose, of responsibility.

So I walk into town under the grey sky, jacket pulled around me against the coolness of the air. I think about the Tavern, but seeing Verdi would remind me of what's coming, her and me and Syl and Lilith. I've enough change in my pocket for a cup of coffee, so I stop into the cafe instead and buy one, take it out and sit on the sidewalk, back against the wall, not caring if anyone stares. People go by about their business, and the coffee is strong and just bitter enough. If I close my eyes I can almost imagine it's a new town, and that nothing's changed, and tomorrow we'll be moving on.

[OPEN][CLOSED]

The person who tries to live alone will not succeed as a human being

[tezcatl-ipoca.livejournal.com]

Sunday Nov 15th
Afternoon
Outside the Misktonic

I'm missing the Diabolique. Perhaps it's living where I can hear every morning the sound of people rising, coughing, talking, their feet loud on the stairs: lives going on in their own small orbits while I lie in the dimness of my room and breathe and think and reach out, in loneliness, for the feel of Iblis and Syl and Genny. I miss company, if not companionship - familiar faces, a nod over coffee, lives and shelves entwined with mine, known to me. I miss the crowds, as well, the endless strangeness and newness of the carnival on the road.

I miss, as well, the ease of it, of not having to worry every moment what's happening elsewhere and to whom. The lack, I suppose, of responsibility.

So I walk into town under the grey sky, jacket pulled around me against the coolness of the air. I think about the Tavern, but seeing Verdi would remind me of what's coming, her and me and Syl and Lilith. I've enough change in my pocket for a cup of coffee, so I stop into the cafe instead and buy one, take it out and sit on the sidewalk, back against the wall, not caring if anyone stares. People go by about their business, and the coffee is strong and just bitter enough. If I close my eyes I can almost imagine it's a new town, and that nothing's changed, and tomorrow we'll be moving on.

[OPEN][CLOSED]