It is no longer raining,

but I feel it from the soaked pavement.

Out of the cinema,

I sense things quietly differently.

That’s what a good film does.

Cars leave a fading sound.

The bus is not as red as it has been.

People on the street - blurred and slow.

The neon light of that kebab shop.

How luminous it is I didn’t know.

The closed record shop - the scent of the old pop.

There is a man next to me, his footsteps, his breathing fast.

I hear you.

The world is so alive,

but so distant

as if I didn't exist

as if I was left in the cinema;

I know that's what a good film does.

There is a woman across the road, leaning against the wall, a cigarette lit

as if she just came out of the film 

as if she knew I would pass at this very moment.

The sound of the cigarette burning, the orange gentle light.

I see you.

She looks down.

I turn left.

Night deepened. 

It was not moonlight

but the blue light

of the road sign, striking.

It says - go this way straight.

No returning.

I am no longer me who didn’t know the world this way;

I know that’s what a good film does.

❄︎ ❄︎ ❄︎

Inspired by "Perfect Days"