Ambilux

50 ml d'Ambiguïté

Marlou 2017

Sunday. 05:30 am morning. In the train station tunnel, the neon tubes flicker and unnecessarily chill this place. No one around.
My own footsteps break the silence, barely filling the emptiness.
It smells sharply human down here.
The night people and those who don’t want to be seen even during the day leave their messages here.
Non-place, toilet, yet home.
Hands glide over bodies, the beat penetrates thoughts::timekeeper:: in the red light, the skin seems so pure.
Silhouettes circle through the space, barely discernible in the dark red, likely naked, clothed only in the scent of abandon and solely belonging to desire. For days now :: in the garden of Dionysus::
Laughter, moaning, one-two-one-two, precision and chaos, six and nine, leather on skin and the will for the night. Hands, still and more and more - from whom? - who knows...and kisses and juices.
Head in lap. Take it all in, never let go again - for the moment.

Inhale, exhale, inhale, exhale....here again...they still flicker..the lights and footsteps echo through the space.
A hint of bitter curry floats through the neon light, a wilted bouquet of flowers, faintly sweet, lies there in the gutter.
The performance. Ends. Applause.