Timbre @ Old School: Trip in Time

Looming overhead, six flights and more than a hundred. Step by step we conquered her, breaths and pants growing increasingly heavy as we slowly but surely made our way to the top. Tiny lights streamed from the roads below, as nothing but the music of crickets beckoned us to proceed down the winding path.

Stairway from Heaven

Up the quiet road and along the refurbished hallways we walked, trying to superimpose the pieces of the past onto the structures of the present; trying to give the function that was to the form that stood before us. "Classrooms perhaps, or maybe the school hall?" we wondered, as we spiralled up the curving pathway, following the sound of music.

The heart of the music was buried under the noise of the crowd that were relishing the joys of a Friday night. High stools and bar-top seats loomed over the rustic cane and rattan furnishes of the lower tables. I tried to pierce my gaze through the threads of time to reimagine our venue in a time that was past, seeing only a blurry vision of what looked like an open carpark, or maybe an old canteen.

Cold and smooth it flushed down my throat, I squeezed my inner cheeks to bring out the last hints of the bitter-aftertaste that was left in my mouth. My recent appreciation had me wondering if the years were indeed catching up with my taste. The sweetness of her's stang through my tongue in a sharp contrast. She pointed out the starriness of the night; I pointed out Orion, thinking of the last time that we gazed.

Stirred and Shaken

A craving satisfied as I bit into the red and orange layer atop the thin crust. The saltiness of the Pepperoni and the chewiness of the Cheese had me longing for another squarish-piece immediately after I had finished my first. Slice-by-slice it disappeared, exposing the wooden pan below in its entirety when it was done. Contemplating over the crumbs, we decided to take it from the top all over again.

Pepperoni and Cheese

Familiar faces took to the stage as I watched on, laughing to her about the coincidence that had transpired. Doubt remained on her face until the moment that he belted out his first line, allowing her to remember the tone and the mannerism. "I told you so," I said, as the acoustic sounds strummed on. We both laughed in unison, reliving the moments of Christmas Eve.

Acoustic (Round)Trip

Madness dawned on us again, but this time in the form of Schizophernia, split down the middle between Mexican and Cajun. Onions and Tortilla chips littered the left half, while Spicy Cajun Chicken composed the right half. "The first cut is the deepest" they say, and indeed it was; as the second round left us with filling more full than fun.

Splitzza

The music played on with the passing of the night, as I waited for those unspoken words. The lights had dimmed and the music had died, but the words she wrote never came to life. Convinced that her song could not be sung through the lips of her muse, we rose from our seats, walking off into the night.

The flash went off, as she receded her smile, running back towards me. The Red Man's posture pointed us towards the direction that we needed to go. The question hanged on the tip of my tongue, as my mind still pondered about those words. She ran up to me, and grasped my hand, sealing my lips as well. We walked with nothing but the music of the crickets, back to the start of it all.

Red between the Legs