Before we begin, I think it's just some clarification about the division of history and style (if there is one o_O) narrative. As you can see dall'intro Parthian, as I do I have to make pseudo if no alternativ not happy, instead of calling updates with the classic name of "chapters", they tracks'm pretending, in other words, they are the tracks on an album.
Well, since the main theme of the story (the music) I think such a freedom can be justified XD
If you have already looked at the poster of this nuevo, small and boring update, there is also blabbering something a little phrase like "this is a cd.
So, for a quiet read, always read it because each update will provide a clue from that point of view the update will be written. Yes, why do not you'll let mica speak only one character XD! For every "cd" will match a voice as well as a character different. Over time you will understand it better, I hope o_O
From where I came out this silly idea? Bon, I was inspired primarily by the structure of a novel by Bret Easton Ellis, the rules of the attraction , alternating between the narrative voices of various characters. And besides, I've also been inspired by a Flaming Lips album, Zaireeka, consisting of four discs to listen simultaneously on four different stereos. And each disc has some sounds that combined with those of other forms of songs.
do not know, I hope that I explained O_O
What else? Right, since I do not want to upload several songs, as well as I do not remember the html to put the player in journal (accepted suggestions ç_ç), put a link on the tube to hear the soundtracks posts.
Ok, I blathered too. Let "singing" - even play - at last the first narrator of the story as well as a little woman (???), soooooo nice-_-'
Do not expect too much crap fan photos and there are exceptional circumstances, nor virtuosity sort. More than anything else is a post that is used to start all in all for all T_T
Obviously, I do not think the environments described correspond to the real ones, more than anything else I've redone some of my old and very vague memories and feelings. ç__ç
Well now I leave you to read in peace seriously o_O
* The Smiths - London *
London today.
Heathrow, despite the fame he has, it seems a normal airport: nothing exceptional. When I stepped inside after being dropped from the bus who welcomed me, my mother and the other fifty people with whom we form the list of passengers of New York - London, I fell a myth . A myth torn from the gray cold that gave off the walls in general and everything else. Damn, it was not what I expected from most of the city!
My mother probably does not think like me. His gaze wanders among the places of the airport ... hypnotized Hypnotized by something I can not see ... Oh I can not understand. Worse, I can not know and I'll never know.
ask me my passport. Soak him casually, in this typical English-looking little man who looks at me annoyed. Well, nobody forced them to do 'this work, sir! The melancholy docility of my mother holding me back dall'esporre similar cynical remarks to the person concerned. But yes, his business.
And then follow the signs to take me yellow piss our suitcases. I have with me a few things: clothes that will still sunny Los Angeles, you need to look after their staff person ... What is important I have it already on the guitar, sheet music and tablature different, and i-pod. The phone keeps my mom in a bag from the fabric soft but rigid and compact set.
many people around, all awaiting the arrival of their luggage. We also post a gap between us and the other a dirty look from another. The cases are late in coming. A classic of any airport. The cases finally begin to file past one after another. And no one after the other tells me anything that has to do with me. One after the other. Nothing after all. The question arises: who have lost their luggage?
And look at my case ... there appears brand new black trolley suitcase, and dirt from the fabric and ultra consumed by my mother. Impatient I grab my luggage. Waiting for mother into pieces and then off to the subway.
As usual, I let myself be guided passively by yellow signs marking the way to the famous London underground. All marked by the equally illustrious mark round pierced by a bar-printed letters. The road is long and my luggage is becoming increasingly annoying to carry. I do not want to think about how your fingers are now a mother, because his is a classic case to carry in hand. Certainly not good. Luckily I had told her to buy a new ... But as usual the woman always does his own thing. If you dare to complain at least I think its nice bag by the many memories it to him wearing worn and frayed public breakdown ... Fortunately, he is quietly without saying a word. I do not want to imagine what goes through my head. Even as I sit on the fence will touch on two or three possibilities. And if there's one thing I hate is being indecisive.
After a thousand escalators and subways arrive at the entrance of various meters.
This is where my mother wakes from his sleep-walking. He rushes to take a map of the underground. Too bad it has to wait in line at the information desk. In the meantime, I sit on the floor in a corner waiting for hurry.
I start to look at his case. So different from mine. We are so different. The only thing in common are the blood. And of course the love for music. Oh, and the transfer to this new city ... even if for different reasons: for her to resurrect the past, I build a new future. That's why I say that we are different: she always looks back, I always forward. Of course we are not ever in anything.
I want to nicotine. I grab my package from his pocket and take a Camel. With my lighter steel light it up. I hope it is forbidden to smoke in the subway. Indeed, perhaps it is. These Brits are too rigid for my taste. Ok, I do not want trouble and passers-by looked at me for some reason not very pleasant. The turn off the bit squashed on the wall and put it back in the package. The later will smoke. I decide to change location sitting down on the trolley, gave himself that the floor is too cold.
Meanwhile, she finally arrives with his map of the metro and also two small blue boxes and blue. It gives me one. I get up from the trolley and open it: a blue and light blue card with rounded characters written oyster.
- This means we should not worry. At least until the end of the month.
- But that's cool.
You see I am very excited?
- And if you thinking of going somewhere between Zone 3 and Zone 5, but you have to get a ticket normally.
- Areas?
- View the map. It gives me
one. It took them two. What a nice thought that too! The
open. Many blatantly colored lines confuse me. Stretched between a color and the other I see numeretti. And my mother's speech is clear.
-Anyway, now we have to take that line?
-
So ... Look at the map.
-Obviously the blue line, then return to Holborne take the red line to Oxford Circus. From there look for the hotel.
- ... Vabbeh, just follow you, but do not make trouble. You look like a sleepwalker today.
She looks at me with a smile almost fake.
-Exactly. I look like.
And after this, picks up his suitcase and heads for the doors. With a touch of class passes his card to a device and the doors magically open. Like a good script
imitate his movements to perfection. And then I follow his trail marked by the sound of heels blacks. I wonder how it has blown in the mind to get that type of shoes. Bah.
go down the escalator, and posters of local events, exotic locations and above all of the latest movie releases greet us as we move towards various crosses plate with as many different signs and billboards line almost identical.
I do not waste time looking at the differences, there has already thought of my mother who has turned from a safe part. I just have to continue to follow it. An LCD display of the characters tells us that the subway is coming. In fact, after a few seconds comes a couple of cars and one of them opens the doors, throwing up significant amounts of people in suits, to welcome us: a nineteen year old brunette and a red-haired woman, came to foreign London looking for a piece of their time.
