“…looking down through the dirty grey fog.”
I sat high up on the Ferris wheel for a while yesterday. I was warm in my Burberry coat, looking down through the dirty grey fog at the men in dark green uniforms who were walking around, some with urgency and others not so much. There was ruin everywhere and an uncanny quietness, despite there being hundreds of them.
I was looking for chaos, for a reason to excuse an inner terror I was feeling. It was lonely up there, so I quickly moved to the carousel where soldiers with red cheeks, the result of the cold and the alcohol, were singing folk songs, or at least I assumed they were. They were drunk and most of them smelled but it was comforting to hear their singing amid the bleakness.
Their smiles were tainted with more than a tinge of sorrow and carried with a heavy heart. I didn’t want to join in the singing and they did not insist, but they allowed me to watch from my seat. I stayed here for a long time as new soldiers came in through the dark fog, listening to the men in the carousel singing their hearts out and looking at the sun refusing to go down.
Story credits: Atonement (2007); Burberry Prorsum.