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Humanity in all it's Humility


C. Camille Do

It’s not dark yet. Not quite. Only the lurid lights that burn my eyes make it seem so. I follow the rest of them, like walking the gang plank, everything as if seen through a polaroid camera, of memories romanticised and fading, the red hues dancing across our faces like the whispering of a bad omen. Is something bad about to happen?

I do not make eye contact, but maybe that is because i do not exist. I smell the darkness weaving through the crowd of people beside me, synaesthesia nudging at my nose. We proceed further, the outside world now out of sight, a harsh yellow falling over us. The air is pulled taught, and i can hear the breathing of everyone beside me, humanity in all its humility. Eyes glazed over look around unseeingly. If I were here, I would smile, a single emotion displayed only for a good intention.

I can feel every ripple of the black water beneath us, sloshing around with its own liberties, my body above, moving to the rhythm of it. There is no terror here, only the nocturnal brilliance suggests so, though there should be. Humans are always tinged with fear, of the kind that comes from within.

Soon it will no longer feel like a prison, with its fluorescent lights beaming down, and narrow walkways that I feel too big for. Soon, the humid air will hit my face, but only I will think anything of it.

I think I hear crying somewhere in the distance. And then there are no more lights.

- humanity in all its humility

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