The Balcony

The balcony sits high above the street. The sound of cars and trams rumble by below, singing a vibration through the buildings foundations. The archways of the balcony project a reminder of life in full swing; there lies an empty ashtray atop a sun bleached mahogany table. There is an unseasonably cool breeze sweeping round the columns of the arches, yet the sun still beats down outside.

Tucked away in the corner, slumbered almost doll like in a weaved chair, sits a man. At first sight he looks like any other man. A tanned complexion covers his face, arms and legs; dressed in shorts and t-shirt, giving off a subtle handsome look; though all is not the same inside. This man is facing a mean battle with escapism, quizzically going through the motions of joining in. Outside, he’s aware of life’s intricate patterns, yet he’s unable to become a part of the design.

His thoughts rage in a state of flux and contemplation �" whirling chaos. As such, he could be an unpublished thinker, or merely a man struggling with his thoughts on personality and ego. There was a night when he collided with the notion of the ego, and it lingers on his minds horizon. He wishes he could distract his mind from himself.

Appearing not to judge people on first sight, it is clear that many people seem immune to the worrisome thoughts of the complexities in life. It is merely accepted that one should mould in to the forms of a simple working life; find work, find love, find peace and happiness, grow old and be content that they gave everything to the workings of the world. This man seriously lacks the ability to let go of thoughts and ideas that analyse the world.

He recalls the story of Lemuel Gulliver, and wonders if he can find any comparable thoughts with his own. To contextualise, Lemuel Gulliver was the first man to voyage to the Island of Lilliput, and also to encounter the Houyhnhnms. Mr Gulliver maintained this remarkable aptitude to find something wonderful wherever he went, fueling his creativity in writing and language. However, he always promised, after every trip away, that he would settle down with his family. After a brief time at home, Mr Gulliver would grow irritable and frustrated at the common life he was leading; he would seek employment aboard a ship to go abroad. Not so dissimilar to the man’s own feelings.

He continues to sit on the balcony with an almost seeming impossibility of escaping this slumber. He ruminates, hypothesises, theorises obscene details, of which he scribbles down into his notebook. The big question he asks, 'how can I escape this slumber?'