10.02.17 – Waxed
A crimson light cut across his face, splitting it in two. It fractured his visage at the nose leaving his sight line in opposition to his voice. The separation was singed in by that red smear on my vision. He remained unmoving, sitting with his attention at the light’s strong source, lips still twitching out a stream of unheard syllables. He looked like a man rapt with this touch of god and talking in an uninterrupted line of tongues that were delivered by a lit caress. Just as he was drawn in by that glowing and glaring form I was moved to make an approach. He was a beacon with features shining as they were with no shade between.
No one else seemed to catch the gleaming eye of that spotlight in quite the same way. Other bystanders were crossing its lane but were only sliced gently through limbs and torsos with harmless effect. The city often cast its lines upon the pedestrians and most ignored the bright bait for a granite experience; many had their own lighted lure in hand and followed it forward with little distraction from outside influence. I closed my own to search this man and his adjusted image hoping to see the source that brought his eyes to a standstill and left him paralyzed and flawless in the projected performance.
The hard haze at light’s edge kept me from seeing him clearly, but he was shifting in seat with a wiggle that let him stay pointed towards the sure source. I think he was dancing, maybe headphones obscured and mouth moving along with an anthem only he could catch. I was approaching a disruption that might have only occurred at my angle of observation. The beam moved off, blocked by the scurry of some fellows between him and the burning bulb. I stopped for a bit, letting the afterimage drop its velvet hue from my vision. He turned to look at me, surprised by my proximity and curious as to the intent. I brought my screen back to my face in a worried hurry and acted like we were shadows once more.