Tycho - The Daydream
3:35am, Quezon City
Through this roundabout, lights flickered, still alive but knowing its eventual end. People walk around, dazed by the aftermath of their evenings, realizing the reality of the another week fast approaching. I made an exit on a familiar corner. Figures grew through the windshield, towering past its borders. I knew this road, you see. I knew a particular building, signboard, or whatever, coming soon as another particular object went beyond the headlights of my car.
But a sense of difference crept up on my memory.
These figures were the same. But I saw them in a different light. Or probably even the lack of it. Everything seemed empty. No interest to be given to a building. A structure I used to be so fond of, its colors, sounds, and even the words spoken inside it, held no meaning. Laughters weren’t there any longer. People had left. My hands cringed on the steering wheel, with fingers longing for the surfaces to which they used to belong.
It was dark, and the absence of glare gave birth to longer shadows flowing freely on the pavement. I praised the moon, and not the stars I used to count night after night. I swam through the hues, relevant only to my own definition of color. All these I saw through my own perceptions, existing without the influence of others.
I aimlessly enjoyed each second of absorbing all that reality had to give. I felt infinite, sharing this moment with the world, through the silence of loneliness, as my eyes met the empty seat beside me.
My world had changed, but continuously revolved in the same way.