International Chaos

Talking. Whispering. Yelling. I hear them all at once but do not understand a word. The rapid-fire sentences coming from the people around me seem to range from French to Spanish to Italian. There is a light ‘ding’ from a bell in the immediate area, suddenly the pebbles beneath my feet begin to shake as people shuffle behind me. A group must be passing by. There is the echo of traffic in the distance; I can make out honking car horns and an ambulance alarm. The manmade world is not the only one at play though. There are nearby birds sing proudly from above me. I feel the hot sun caressing my face, while the shade on my back keeps me from overheating. There is a constant breeze that envelops me and makes me smile. All of a sudden I hear rapid clicking from a camera to my right; the pebbles are shifted once more as what sounds like a large group of people enter the space. Through out all of this a faint smell of oranges permeates the air. I hear urgent shouting between individuals, not in angry tones but excited ones. A loud ‘gong’ shakes through the air and reminds me I am in the presence of a church. Everything is moving except for the bench beneath me. The stone is hard and cold but its stability is reassuring among the chaos. Female voices speak with curious tones, almost as if they are exchanging gossip as they pass by me. The voices dissipate into the background and I am left in silence, but not for long. The sound of someone coughing is growing louder and louder until it feels like there are right next to me. As I break my visionless trance I search for the source of the coughing: Mary.

The Orange Garden

May 28^th