Golden flecks of yellow crimson and sunburst blue phase across the walls in a brilliant choreography. Every passing vehicle illuminates the room, a flash of life, but only for a moment. It’s the kind of spectacle that succeeds a nightmare.
Another car flies past, uncaring and distant, growing more so with each desperate heartbeat. This time, the fleeting light paints a dark silhouette on the wall. A monochrome specter, pirouetting through every shade of our soul.
Our lips stretch slightly and we try to shout. Nothing.
This time a semi passes, and the mass grows near. It beckons us forward. No longer spectators, we become performers.
It’s the kind of demonstration that we look forward to. The one that follows a dream.