Lights blared in multicolored hues, emphasizing words and actions. Heartbeats matched the steady rhythm escaping from the speakers, and phone lights were held high to make constellations never before seen. Moisture clung to the atmosphere, glistening the skin of the crowd dancing to the music.
The woman had come here to feel alive. The spacious venue gave each person space to experience the show while providing a comfortable essence, as if each person were family. Strangers became friends, and each felt the weight of their outside lives leaving them at least for one blissful set.
The man had come here to work, state-of-the-art equipment in hand. He would capture the timeless experiences of others, never expected to make his own. Smoke from the lips of people above him brought a fog that softened every face, every emotion, and he was determined to capture it all.
Bodies moved in unison as voices of every tune followed along, and the man walked along the walls, the edge of the stage and knew it would never be enough, he had to get closer.
The woman had found a group of people, men and women alike following the same thought, that I must live, I must live now. To not dance in this sacred space would be to sacrifice the carnal desires of their souls. They could only follow the command of what their bodies and subconscious asked of them.
She held their hands, hugged their bodies close, and the person before her had her attention only second to the music itself. It really had nothing to do with the person in front of them, but who they could be together for the moments they had. Closer and closer they danced, hands held tighter, and layers of clothing removed to expose what skin was acceptable with the rising heat.
The man had joined the groups gathered on the floor, the camera finding its desired muse at every glance. The band sounded exceptionally well tonight, he believed, and for the evening he thought he could lose himself too, despite the work he had to do. It was easy work for him, truly, he knew exactly how to capture the emotions of others through his lenses, picture or otherwise. Letting his camera fall to his side for a moment, he watched the band and scanned the crowd, eyes landing on the woman.
She was exceptional, body flowing like the world around her meant nothing, her hair travelled down her back and clung to the sides of her face as she breathed the music in and out of her body. The man could not take his eyes away from her, and quickly his camera joined him. She had yet to notice him, and for now he preferred it that way. He had the rare opportunity to see people for who they truly were before they remembered who they had to be, and with every lyric sung, this woman captured him.
The woman continued to sway, arms raised above her head in thanks to heaven for this night of catharsis and recovery. The music seeped into every crevasse of her body and mind to fill the holes life left behind. She was unwilling to let go of this moment, she never wanted to leave.
The man approached closer, his camera unable to take photos and videos fast enough to capture her entirely. As he moved through the crowd, she looked to him. She looked into his camera, straight to his soul and as his heart beat erratically, she smiled at him. She beckoned him closer, light reflecting off the delicate lines of her hands and arms as his camera continued to remember every detail of this woman before him. She was a work of art he could look at forever, and she brought him close so that he might get to.
A Series of Observations 