Pushing through the market square, so many mothers sighing
News had just come over, we had five years left to cry in
News guy wept and told us, earth was really dying
Cried so much his face was wet, then I knew he was not lying
I heard telephones, opera house, favourite melodies
I saw boys, toys, electric irons and T.V.'s
My brain hurt like a warehouse, it had no room to spare
I had to cram so many things to store, everything in there
And all the fat-skinny people, and all the tall-short people
And all the nobody people, and all the somebody people
I never thought I'd need so many people
-Five Years by David Bowie
It's been a long day, full and empty. All the busyness of the day, my first day back at work in a week, dissipated when I left and visited my mom in the hospital.
It's about two miles from my work to the hospital. I walked out the back door of the sterile office tower I slave in and late evening, late summer warmth enveloped me. At 19:00 the sun was setting, a pale orange, dusty sunset. I walked through the city streets, over the two bridges I must cross to get to the French area of the city, St Boniface. I slipped down a freshly tarred pathway beside the bridge, walking up along the river. I could smell the river and the thick foliage along the path, foliage which will soon be taken down by frost.
I ducked into the hospital, through a series of subterranean corridors and up a stairwell, to my mom's room. She's sharing it with a philippino lady who has a bad cough. They have the room dim. My mom's bed is by the window. I could see lamplights coming on. I pulled up a chair near her bed and slouched in it. The curtain was partly pulled across the room. It felt as if we were alone in an antechamber, expecting something. She pressed the remainders of her dinner on me: biscuits, milk, half a sandwich. Resistance was futile. She told me to pretend it was a picnic. I laughed at that.
We spent 45 minutes, in the dim room, talking. Our words were punctuated by the lady coughing. We talked about many things. I told her of my friend who tried to convince me that the world will end on December 23, 2012. He points to indications in the Mayan calendar. We talked about what we'd do if we only had eight years left. We talked about astronomy. We talk about soviet statesponsored psychic experimentation. I talked with my mom, actually talked. And listened. I enjoyed myself. I couldn't believe how quickly the time to leave came.
On the way home, I stopped on one of the bridges. A greyhaired bespectacled man sat in the dark on a bench and smoked. I murmured "hallo" and he said something warm and unintelligible. I wandered to the railing. I looked down at the black river. A river cruise boat approached the bridge and passed under, leaving behind laughter, eddies, lights, then darkness. I felt cold, looking at the red and blue neon from the hospital reflected in the diminishing swirling currents of water. I thought about the chaos of life, swirling in darkness.
Then I thought about it all gone.
News had just come over, we had five years left to cry in
News guy wept and told us, earth was really dying
Cried so much his face was wet, then I knew he was not lying
I heard telephones, opera house, favourite melodies
I saw boys, toys, electric irons and T.V.'s
My brain hurt like a warehouse, it had no room to spare
I had to cram so many things to store, everything in there
And all the fat-skinny people, and all the tall-short people
And all the nobody people, and all the somebody people
I never thought I'd need so many people
-Five Years by David Bowie
It's been a long day, full and empty. All the busyness of the day, my first day back at work in a week, dissipated when I left and visited my mom in the hospital.
It's about two miles from my work to the hospital. I walked out the back door of the sterile office tower I slave in and late evening, late summer warmth enveloped me. At 19:00 the sun was setting, a pale orange, dusty sunset. I walked through the city streets, over the two bridges I must cross to get to the French area of the city, St Boniface. I slipped down a freshly tarred pathway beside the bridge, walking up along the river. I could smell the river and the thick foliage along the path, foliage which will soon be taken down by frost.
I ducked into the hospital, through a series of subterranean corridors and up a stairwell, to my mom's room. She's sharing it with a philippino lady who has a bad cough. They have the room dim. My mom's bed is by the window. I could see lamplights coming on. I pulled up a chair near her bed and slouched in it. The curtain was partly pulled across the room. It felt as if we were alone in an antechamber, expecting something. She pressed the remainders of her dinner on me: biscuits, milk, half a sandwich. Resistance was futile. She told me to pretend it was a picnic. I laughed at that.
We spent 45 minutes, in the dim room, talking. Our words were punctuated by the lady coughing. We talked about many things. I told her of my friend who tried to convince me that the world will end on December 23, 2012. He points to indications in the Mayan calendar. We talked about what we'd do if we only had eight years left. We talked about astronomy. We talk about soviet statesponsored psychic experimentation. I talked with my mom, actually talked. And listened. I enjoyed myself. I couldn't believe how quickly the time to leave came.
On the way home, I stopped on one of the bridges. A greyhaired bespectacled man sat in the dark on a bench and smoked. I murmured "hallo" and he said something warm and unintelligible. I wandered to the railing. I looked down at the black river. A river cruise boat approached the bridge and passed under, leaving behind laughter, eddies, lights, then darkness. I felt cold, looking at the red and blue neon from the hospital reflected in the diminishing swirling currents of water. I thought about the chaos of life, swirling in darkness.
Then I thought about it all gone.
VIEW 25 of 35 COMMENTS
i went to the hospital today to visit my grandmother. i just found out she has been there for three days and no one said anything. hospitals make me sad. i don`t think i would ever be a strong enough person to work in one.