***
The white-light phase ends and the residue of an earlier anxiety, now no longer tethered to meaning, floats away on gentle currents of unconscious thought. The tall, thin man stands up, and walks away.
Boisterous children play in an adjacent shadowed street of terraced houses. One of them taunts a small and angry companion; he shouts to him, brandishing a yellow ball above his head. The smaller boy charges forward but fails to catch his more agile tormentor. But he won’t give up the chase, that treasured ball must be retrieved.
Above the children, above the trees and the street: the radiant sky. At last it can be truly appreciated.
Start walking.
The high pedestrian bridge crosses a busy ring-road and the traffic below produces a distinctive and uniform roar. Cars rush by. Petrol fumes hang in the air. A distant horizon of hills. Sharp and full of colour. Much closer than usual. Almost within reach...
Ignore them. Move on...
A gentle slope downhill leading to a cluster of large buildings. A quick march down and almost there, but ... a sudden need. Time to stop, and identify that need...
The first drag is exhaled and smoke billows out towards the centre of the road. A man and a woman are chatting on the opposite side. The woman is young, the man a bit older. They seem to be absorbed in their conversation.
Focus on the woman.
She is listening intently to the man’s animated talk and frequently breaks into laughter, taking her cues from the man’s subtle and non-subtle mannerisms, but she has her own body language, and it speaks mainly through her hands. They protect her fine blonde hair from the displacing effects of imperceptible zephyrs. It comes her turn to talk, and she touches the man on his arm, light touches, never lingering.
Another drag, and attention turns towards the man.
He is tall and well-built. He has a ginger beard. When he listens to the woman he puts both hands in his trouser pockets, but he leaves the thumbs outside, in plain view – like groinal medallions. He listens and maintains a blinking eye contact with the woman...
The quiet road contains no other pedestrians and only slow moving, intermittent, traffic. The woman and man abruptly stop their conversation and stare, the woman’s face closing down to become an unfriendly mask. She puts her hands to her hips and looks across to the man. The man speaks. It sounds challenging. His hands come out of his pockets and fold up in front of his barrel chest.
A final drag and the stub drops to the ground. Time to continue: the gawping couple are no longer interesting, no longer unaffected.
The view from the top of a car park ramp. There it is, un-picturesque, the place of study. The reason for being here in this town.
But this is a bad place, a place of pestilence. Simply standing here, in plain view, attends risks: there lurk dangerous people here, people that must be avoided.
The various offices and classrooms are very clearly laid out and people are visible within. And they have eyes, these people...
Run!!
Enter that pub.
A couple of men play pool; various people, some familiar, sit hunched at the numerous tables. A large man moves into plain view on the other side of the bar.
Indicate one of the pumps...
The barman’s expression is blank – he utters something.
Indicate one of the pumps...smile...
The barman suddenly smirks and starts pouring the drink. It duly arrives, but the barman is still being difficult...
Give him something. Look in your pocket...
The barman snatches the money and the drink is now available.
The two men are playing pool in a smaller alcove. One of these men has a recognized face, he holds a hand up and saunters over, brandishing his pool cue like a sword. Smiling.
No threat.
The man starts to ‘speak’.
He looks on expectantly, an open toothy smile stapled to a sharp and irregular face.
Do as he does. Offer him some of those good-natured grunts.
A stunned reaction. A sudden quiet.
The recognized man, whose ugly face is now only inches away, suddenly bursts out laughing; mocking, derisive. Nearby drinkers – three young women – they, too, look and laugh. The recognized man still hovers close, the cue, even closer.
Threatening now!
The cue is snatched and broken in two over a knee, a pint-glass goes crashing to the ground. Time to deal with that dumbstruck recognized man...
The barman, like a bull, comes charging into the pool room; an arm is grabbed and then a neck. A second man follows and grips the flailing free arm. Struggle, but no good, they are too strong and too determined. Out into the street and onto the pavement, the broken pool cue follows. The barman looks ready to come next, he makes some threatening shouts, and hovers menacingly for a moment, but then disappears back into the pub.
Fury!
But second thoughts: outnumbered. Anger subsides.
Move on...
Sitting down near the window. Drinking. Very relaxed.
A group of six women and one man cluster around a small table, studying a set of open files. This assemblage maintains a quiet and sober demeanour. Losing interest...
A heavy man with dark hair sits at this table. Sweaty black t-shirt. Mumbles something. A greeting?
Nod, but ignore him.
He seems happy enough. No more grunting.
Another group: three men and one woman. They engage in a battle of wills. The smiles and eyes give off conflicting signals. The woman and two of the men oppose the remaining man. The solitary man remains the most relaxed and comfortable of the four, outwardly and inwardly.
The three aggressors are failing to hit their target. The solitary man senses the strength of his defensive position...
Ah, but a sudden change! The solitary man has made a mistake. The other three shriek and holler loudly. They have won...
A hard pat on the back. Two companions. They are offered a friendly wave and a jiggle of the glass. The taller man is already on his way to the bar.
The other sits down and begins to stare.
He knows what you know.
But what do you know?
The other friend comes back: four glasses on the table; it seems the sweaty black t-shirt is deemed worthy of a drink...
Music begins to play; eyes are forced to close...
Her astonishing voice...
As Above, So Below Page 10
