stereo hearts //blitz; [kale]

I don’t know how in Ripred’s name Dom managed to drag me to this damnable party in this damnable mansion with all its damnable too loud, too bright music that’s an assault to my eyes as well as my ears. I wander through the crowd, clutching a cigarette between two fingers like a life-line and taking a long drag of it every five seconds or so, finding solace in how the poison of nicotine somehow wards off the strobe light of colors that dance before my eyes. I make my way to back of the room, where the shadows are heavier and the colors not quite so bright, and lean against the wall with my eyes closed and my head tilted back, devising ways to get back at my so-called best friend for this slow death by rainbow torture.

I’ve never cared for any of this modern, bass-heavy music that the average Capitolite is so keen to listen to, preferring instead the more slow, soft-colored music that soothes my eyes and ears rather than attempts to murder them that can be found at the various concert halls around the district. In fact, I think there’s one going on not far from here, probably at the tail-end of the performance at his late hour, but anything’s better than this torture. I push myself up off the wall and begin making my way back through the crowd, just ready to get the hell out of here already.