Jazz Café Experience

Surrounded by swirling smoke in the jazz cafe, I was sitting down, tapping my fingers to the lingering sound of a tune. Couples around me were holding hands like sly foxes under the round tables, kissing keenly, like the sky does the moon. Empty seats and lonesome folk were sitting as one, with scented candles burning with zeal. Strangers and friends mingled, lounging on the divan. I was focused, gazing at the starry spotlight on the woman onstage. She was singing the blues, freeing them from her soul with every gloomy note. Her voice was almost haunting, sending chills throughout my body. The band played slowly, with the music leading the way. Taking a drag of my last cig, blowing smoke rings that travelled across the room, I closed my eyes and swayed my body, left and right to the melody, digging into my thoughts and untamed imagination.

A bluesy dream, it was; the sound of the barry soothing me. I was floating on air, flying high through the smoke. I was lost in the music, lost in the moment. A heavy crowd of colours emerged; blues, reds and purples, chatting away like a soft breeze. A figure, faded like a black sketch loomed; all rubbed out and messy, but redrawn as it neared… It has bold outlines and faultless features – teasing me to insanity. This handsome painting whispered into my ear sweet nothings, sweeter than the sweetest honey. When I unclosed my eyes and took a look around, I smiled, bit my lip and guzzled my drink down. I just sat there and smoked my ciggy dry and tasteless. Tapping my fingers to the lingering sound of a tune, I let the nocturne of the keys make its mark in my mind.

(No folks, I don't smoke lmao this one isn't about me)