Our eternal goddess writhes to her music on the colossal screen aloft an inebriated crowd, "Strike a pose . . . " I move through the dark amorphous mass seeking emptiness, my own space to lure, my own space to disappear.
My eyes search frantically, leading me through the dark halls to what draws me here, deep in the night: acceptance. Responding eyes leer from the imitating walls, evaluating a new opportunity. Confidence in my strength is no longer stolen by them; yet, the fear remains.
Pulsating exposure gives the mass a chance to reassess. How well can they do tonight? All their eyes explore and probe for new trophies which expect to be found and worshipped. None of us want to be alone.
I want to be a part of and apart from these familiar strangers. I want to observe from the outside in, but others have alternate designs. They interrupt my seclusion. Exuding magnetism, they seek to satisfy only their own hunger. Suddenly I'm no longer apart; I'm looking from the inside in, and it's over.
It's over and I'm caught.
He leads me away. A place waits for me to come, where I will be worshipped and forgotten. I don't know where I will be, . . . always somewhere new . . . always somewhere novel. Anticipation and expectation of what's to come grow in my mind.
Cool air welcomes us into the night and together our footsteps shape the snow as we move further away from the hunting ground. But there is nothing new here, nothing unexpected. The inexorable pull of the city which lures me to run loose and wild in the night has possessed me one more time.