The Unilever Series: Dominique Gonzales Foerster - TH.2058


Walking in Times Square

By Benjamin Wolf Telushkin

Quickness is a normality. He did not feel that way in the drunken state he was in. The few people on the street looked unreal yet familiar. Time Square was populated by people who took in an interest in the actual “closeness” of something. As if that were vital to ones perspective.

He, however, was only lost, and therefore was indifferent with the disappointed people. Closeness was not as magical as they imagined, at least the majority of them.

A piece of paper laid astray. He compared it to a link on a website, possibly or something. When picking it up, he felt like a digital mouse clicking it. It was enigmatically folded, as expected. Whatever that was on his mind distracted him from keeping grip to the paper. The lack of practice was probally a factor as well.

The font was strange. It was not consistent like that he is used to. Specific letters were structured differently throughout. Personality existed, and was currently alive. Not translated digitally.

But this speratic change in letters dizzied his mind. He was accustomed to thirty cuts in an average minute of internet videos, yet adjusting to an inconsistent font as difficult, but entertaining. The challenge excited him.

He made out the first sentence, and did not care enough to remember. He threw away the yellow paper. He forgot about it fairly quickly. He walked across the street, unaware what the light ould have said years ago. For memorable purposes, it stayed on “go.” A safe choice. There were even a few cars, but they doubtfully worked even with a fair amount of reconstruction.

He took a bobby pin and attempted to open a car door. He was not jacking it. He was trying to sit somewhere warm. Homelessness was a lost art, which was a good thing. Yet actual victims were now really in trouble.

In a state of anger he shoved the door his direction, which worked. Years defined the cars weakness. He sat in the antique model and looked for a cigarette in his pocket. A car was the best place to absorb the most nicotine possible. Yet the smell would negatively attract cops.

He could not find one so fell asleep. And the world stayed awake. No specific city “never slept” anymore. No cities had connotations either.