There was something about big city's lights that was always tempting, inviting. They illuminated the path of making dreams come true in that concrete jungle that provided for thousands, millions of people. The diversity of cultures, races and ethnicity made one truly feel a part of this homogeneous world we lived in; each a beautiful color of the most divine spectrum.
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She too, was attracted to those lights, like a moth. Small town girl that she was, always eager to venture further beyond the shore; ended up smack dab in the middle of those light, blinded by their intensity. Filled with trill, manic enthusiasm and exhilaration; she thought they would guide her towards happiness.
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Little did she know.
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Several month after she had thrown her hopes and dreams into a small, lacerated suitcase and set off towards the big city's light, she came to understand the life of black butterflies. The way they flew towards the light, enchanted by its illusory warmth; not knowing that there was the end, that its glistening shine killed them. She too, flew once; was that butterfly once; lured by the light that only burned her wings.
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Lost, alone; she never knew she would find a hint of a comfort in the subway; the underground centipede that transported people.
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She never knew his story; never asked. She never heard him voice his thoughts out loud; how he too lost his way in the big city, how he too shared her destiny. There was no need for words, long sentences and elucidations. Only one glance and a smile.
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He understood her; recognized himself in the green shades of desperation her eyes held, and he knew. He shared his consolation with her, wondering whether by sharing two strings connected to the same thing would they souls connect too?
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So everyday, on their five station journey towards the different ways unbeknownst to either of them, the boy shared his music; and the girl listened, truly listened.
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Somewhere along the notes of the small songs by big artists, they learned the truth. That the city offered everything but the thing they both wanted most. That the black butterflies their souls consisted of weren't made for the cruel lights of big cities. That what once was liberation, now became their cage.
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Two souls, two strangers, one boy and one girl. Both seemingly different, but so alike. Both slaves of their own choices, bohemians in their heart but robots by force.
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And maybe, just maybe, in that filthy, metallic construction; alone amongst millions of people, their hearts connected with strings and music; laid their salvation. ns18.104.22.168da2