Darkened side street hides the recessed doorway that
sweeps us in from the cold.
And we climb
three
flights
of
stairs
to get to the brick-built, wood-floored, 1950s Downtown loft
that’s hosting a gallery for two local baristas who
serve Starbucks coffee as a day-job
and capture memories in the form of photographs as a passion.
The room is quietly buzzing with life when we walk in,
and we see the guests of honor beaming with pride while they silently observe
on-lookers marvel at the snapshots, comment on the beauty,
move breathlessly around the room in awe.
We join the masses wandering the space:
we’re touched by what touches them, moved by what moves them,
inspired by what inspires them.
We see the same stunning images, the same moments frozen in time,
the same “wouldn’t you think this was a still from an indie film?” shots,
and in silence and whispered affirmations, we all know we feel the same thing.
And we’re breathing it in.
The room, hushed in reverence, is bathed by the music of Mat Kearny and
Augustana and it all fits the mood, yet, outside, the sounds of the city
are still within reach: lean near enough to the window, and there is
the muted vibrations of a live Irish band three stories down
being drowned out by
a car horn
and the shuffle of feet
and the occasional barfly yell.
And I can see darkness, punctuated by headlights
and neon
and the glow, that city glow.
And I catch them peering, in pairs or alone, out the window from time to time.
And they’re breathing in.
But slide away, and the windows’ reflection still marks white orbs of light
and I hear excited murmers inside, and the pulsing power anthems,
and the creaking of the floorboards and the chill of the chipped brick
is drowned out by
the scratch of a pen
and the shuffle of feet
and the occassional laugh of joy.
And I can see brightness, punctuated by delicate shadow
and color
and I see photographs, and people dressed up in scarves and boots,
their cheeks flushed, and they’re smiling, radiant,
and they’re walking, clutching their hands to their hearts or their handbags or their drinks or
one another and in them, I feel connection.
And through them, I see that glow.
That city glow.
