So I’m sitting in one of my favourite cafe bars, typing away, booking things and e-mailing people, and the sound system starts playing The Postal Service‘s The District Sleeps Alone Tonight and it’s sweet.
The Sunday mums and dads tuck their screaming offspring into their rigidised Islington pushchairs, the waitress sitting in the corner with her fringe in the newspaper bobs her head to the delightful indie electronica. Yay. Connect.
Last night, I was at a party club night in a century-old gothic church at which everyone was dressed in Chicago 20s clothes. Top hats and inflatable balls and live music ‘n pictures turntablism and kids gettin’ high upstairs on balloon helium.
Call it serendipity, call it deja vu, call it The Matrix punctured or a temporary lapse into optimism. These connections – when points of commonality push up through the surface to your feet like daisies despite the facade (“I’m staring at the asphalt wondering what’s buried underneath where I am“) – they’re special. I wish I could bookmark them.
love this, I know exactly what you mean; at the risk of sounding somewhat cheesy, it’s those moments that make getting to the next moment totally worthwhile