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Hell’s empty because all the demons are in my head.

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Hell’s empty because all the demons are in my head.

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I was finding it difficult to talk. The words in my mind just would not come out.

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I was finding it difficult to talk. The words in my mind just would not come out.

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Trust you?

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Never!

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Autumnal weather has never fully agreed with me. But on this day I had to venture into the City Centre in search for inspiration for my new photography project. I was wandering aimlessly through the crowded Bullring, totally lacking idea of what and how to even start, when suddenly an older gentleman of a peculiar look approached me and in the low voice he asked me if I have seen ‘them’?“Who?” I’ve asked back, not being entirely sure how to respond to this unexpected encounter.With his surprisingly strong hand, he has grabbed my arm, holding it too tight for my liking and in deep confidence he whispered:

It was obvious to me that this man wasn’t ‘all there’. I gently released my arm from grip of his hand and in a calm, reassuring tone of voice I said that they are definitely out there. His eyes, from underneath very bushy eyebrows had lit up with hope. There, he met someone who understands, whom he can trust in those uncertain times. Not wanting to get involved I turned around and started to walk towards the New Street, followed by him, which I hadn’t noticed at first. “Right, he is not going to leave me alone” I said to myself when I’ve noticed his slightly crippled figure walking by my side, but I also knew full well that part of me was already strongly curious of what it might be behind this ‘forward looking people’ story.

“Forward looking people…”

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“Please tell me about them” I didn’t have to repeat it twice, straight away, in the chaotic, but also enthusiastic manner he told me all about Lady of the Arts, Josiah Mason and others. How he can’t remember when and in what circumstances they’ve lost each other and about his search ever since. He told me that occasionally he could see some of them in the different parts of the city centre, interacting with passers by, but had never managed to bring them all together again. “They don’t listen to my calls, but then - If we fail, let us try again and again until we succeed!” At this point he ignored my presence completely and with an absent expression on his face walked slowly towards Hill Street. I felt sorry for him. His delusion made him strongly believe he was one of them. But I swear, as he was walking away from me, almost turning the corner of the street he blew a kiss and I could sense in the air the smell of the burnt polyester resin. Shame I’ve never asked about his name…

by Agi Ch

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