Two people sit in the farthest corner of the bar at The Old Vic. I squeeze myself in to a corner and say nothing. Sunlight streams down through the darkness of the stairwell. I wait. They wait. We wait. Gradually more people drip in faster and faster bustling and filling the space. Initially we distance ourselves. Potentially social beings are too shy in this stark strange daylight to converse in what seems such an unnatural setting. I sit and wonder about the stories, the beings, the reasons.
It is my own feeling of in sufficiency or an acute awkwardness that holds me away just below the surface - being like this makes me nervous and I can't break the shell. Someone walks up behind me. Asks if the seat is free. I all too coldly and abruptly reply "Oh no that's fine" a contradiction in itself. I feel myself bristle. That tension that I possible imagine floating between everyone - An in security or a sense of competition or a tension that I imagine between everyone - An in security or a sense of competition or a sexual un ease. I am not sure.
Snippets of peoples conversation still manage to fill the air. Some people - maybe everyone is better at this than me. My awareness pushes me away. I get up and walk out into my own solitude.
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