Underground Forum: Calm down
Text: Sop Rodchenvko
Photo: Sop Rodchenvko
-Don’t you like the music?
-Yes, I like it a lot.
-Why did you stop it then?
-No sure… to be honest, I think I just liked the melody, but not the rest of the song.
-But, what is so special about this melody?
(Slowly, he closed his eyes, and started to cry…
In complete silence, took a deep breath…)
I’ve been here for more than a thousand journeys. Today, as every single day, I’ve started the journey from one cup of coffee –burned and bitter coffee– and that feeling, a nasty sensation of the smell of all cigarettes smoked last night. In a few minutes and without too much effort, I’m ready to leave the house… As always, I go directly to the tube. Thankfully, I’ve already lost the disgusting fear to be there, to be part of the daily drama of London.
Simply, I never waste time deciding which line I should take. In the end, it’s all the same shit: either central or northern line. It’s like to try to decide between one carriage smelling hundreds of passengers after the autumn rain, or the odour of people bathed in their own sweat in summer.
There is always the same sensation: I panic to see all these people running, having conversations on their mobiles with others whom they had never met, but every day they spend hours talking about work, of which no one cares; people with no time even to prepare or at least enjoy their food, or their burned and bitter coffee; people with even less time for his/her the most important soul. Overall, they are very kind, respectful and lovely, whereas they seem to never stop to think and reflect. The point is that the present does not appear to exist here, just the arrogance of speed and movement towards uncertain future. Yet comic and sad point is that they do not seem to have time to coincide with the future.
I pretend that all these movement and speed don’t affect me, since I’ve built a shell to protect me from what I wanted… evoking this feeling, the sensation of being absorbed by the chaotic environment, till loosing my own identity, my dreams, and till when I could not clearly see things that really matters.
I just beg my mind to calm down, to listen to the music with beautiful melodies, and to follow it, follow it till I heal my own melancholy.
-… no, nothing special.
-Are you OK?
-I’ve just felt, as if the dead provoked my happiness.