{$title}Languages:
The Day Never Came
The sky downtown at 26:00, circa ███. Photo taken at [the unfamiliar abode].
On Locations of Dream and Memory: Investigating the Relation between Place and Imagination in the Human Psyche (2023)
tran·si·tion·al
adjective
transitional spaces are the areas which connect two distinct places, thresholds between the once and the soon-to-be; they are typically not meant for long-term habitation and are designed with the purpose of facilitating movement.
[1]
A small hotel room with a large window. One can see quite the distance from up so high. The yellow lighting inside contrasts sharply with the navy of the sky.
A street. Asphalt and concrete, built to hold cruising cars. Across the street lies a parking lot. It is empty. Spread across the lot are streetlights with poles to rival the skyscrapers in height. They are metal and white, impeccably uniform. Yet, even with bulbs that shine like the moonlight, they do little to stave off the darkness. In the distance, tall buildings loom.
The rumbling of airplanes, taking flight. The sky shifts from black to blue, a shade reminiscent of the nautical stage. The sky will appear lightest around midday (12:00), before darkening again around 14:00. The sun seems just below the horizon, but never rises.
[2]
A parking lot in a city where there are no cars. A handful of apartments stand empty, surrounded by shadows that stretch over the concrete. It is dusk, about 17:00. The sky glows periwinkle, and the wind picks up.
In the glare of sunset cast across the navy sky, you finger beads of sand on that parking lot. The scents of sea salt and smoke linger, even though you've long departed. As the sun falls, your awareness fades into a soft ache. You stare into the blur, unsure of your intended destination or if a destination even exists at all. Behind you, an engine roars and sweeps your hair into the air.
Summer's day, downtown. You've finally found a place to stay.