Mostrando las entradas con la etiqueta colors. Mostrar todas las entradas
Mostrando las entradas con la etiqueta colors. Mostrar todas las entradas

lunes, 11 de febrero de 2019

Drop dead gorgeous


   Fur and different types of fabrics covered the floor of the warehouse. At the center, a man with tight clothes threw everything around, apparently looking for something in particular. He stopped for a moment, having a bright yellow patterned fabric on one hand and a bright pink vest in the other, covered in glitter and feathers of many colors. He gave them those to an assistant and then stepped out of the mound of clothes as if nothing had happened. He walked elegantly and steadily towards the warehouse’s exit.

 The rest of the people had to stay there and get everything in order. They had to put everything into the proper bags and boxes and those bags and boxes into very tall shelves where everything was kept in order and very clean. When the last worker left the warehouse, they realized their boss was still there and he seemed to be drawing something on a notebook, against the hood of his car. He didn’t seem to be conscious of his surroundings, only focusing on  the movement of his hand and the trace of the pencil.

 His personal assistant, the young man who had grabbed the selected pieces of clothing, touched his shoulder and whispered in his ear something about a meeting he was late to. The man seemed a bit startled at the beginning, but then he just closed the notebook and entered the car. Later that day, he attended several meetings, having to do with his next collection and with everything that had to do with the financial results achieved by the company. However, he wasn’t really there in any of them.

 Colors flew all over his brain, as well as textures and different kinds of fabrics and so on. He kept drawing in some of those meetings and people knew he had to be left alone while he was being creative. The only thing he had to say in meetings was about the clothes and the line that was about to come out was already in production, so he had not much to say in those last few meetings. They just invited him because they knew he was essential to the success of the company but not because he was actually needed.

 The truth was that some of the people on the board felt that he was losing his touch. People didn’t seem to like his most recent creations, with many critics chiming in saying that it all seemed a little bit too boring and that “it had been seen before”. He was very aware of these criticisms but the had already said, several times, that he thought creativity could not be judged by anyone and that people saying whatever they wanted without context was just an insult to his imagination and his skill as a designer. He thought he should have all the freedoms needed to create and that was it.

 However, the company was secretly against this. They didn’t tell him any of it, but it was clear that if he didn’t deliver results, he would be kicked out without any consideration to his talent of his past results. At the end of the day, the only thing those people considered was money and if he wasn’t the one bringing it into their lives, they would find some other person that could have his vision and theirs, at the same time. It was clearly a possibility and they had in their minds at all times, even if he didn’t realize it.

 In his creative studio, everything was about lights and colors and all the beautiful fabrics that could be brought from every corner in the world. Everyone there was as beautiful as what they used to make dresses and other fashion products and everyone also seemed to be young and always happy, smiling and showing their teeth every step of the way. For an outsider, it was a very strange place to be in, even intimidating because of the attitudes of the people working there, some for years.

 The biggest office there was for him, the top designer, the one that had been the head of the whole creative area for the last two years. And he was a young man but he was already tormented by everything he had done in the past and his present ideas. He felt he was being left behind by his surroundings and that his past work was the result of some silly ideas that had come up from the mind of a naïve young man. And he always felt like that, never really feeling great about any of his work.

 He would spent his days drawing and coloring and checking new products and fabrics, talking to other creative like him and with people creating new things to be used in fashion. His whole life was about being creative and imaginative and sometimes he felt he just didn’t have enough of it. He even felt he had landed his job because of some astronomical mistake, because it was often that he felt like a failure, unable to make what people expected from him. He felt he was not what he was supposed to be.

 As a designer, he was very aware that he had to bring in results in order to have the chance to have such a group working for him, so he had recently visited some stores to check out his success with his own eyes. However, he noticed the latest collection was not working as well as he intended. He had worked so had and his team had put everything on it, all at once if that was possible. But apparently people were not nearly as excited about as they were while making it. That made him feel something he had not experienced before in his very short career filled with success.

 He realized that success could have really disastrous effects in a young man. After all, he had been forced to grow up very fast in order to be the person that was needed in such a competitive world. He remembered the days when he drew several drawings every single day, the days when he would be happy just coloring some nice drawing and then buying his own fabrics to make his creations a reality. He had to make the effort and it was hard and that felt good when he had a final product in his hands.

 The massive appeal of his designs had been his downfall; a crazy idea that had grown inside his head but that was only a lie. They had made him believe he was the only one doing fashion that young and that he was a special little flower growing in some kind of dark moat. But that sure wasn’t the case, and he noticed that from the beginning, with his first fashion show, where he was able to see how talented people was. They were better than what he was lead to believe, beautiful and creative people.

 And it was a mosh pit between them, a storm of talented souls that clashed one against the other. It was horrible for them and for the people that worked with them but they mostly never realized how vicious their world could be. They only thought about the imaginative process, about how beautiful it was to combine one thing with the other. They felt it was the best job in the world, the most glamorous and beautiful in all of existence, and that it couldn’t be topped by anything on the world.

 So he just decided to stay in his office for a whole day, working and working, not caring about anything else. He tried to create something that could really make him someone different, that could really tell others that he was a very unique soul and that his creations were much more than just clothes and accessories, more like works of art being carried around by beautiful people that knew how much effort and imagination had gone into their creation. He didn’t stop until his hands hurt.

 They found him the following day, dead on his working area. According to the doctors that examined him afterwards, he had died of a heart attack. It was very uncommon for such a young man to die like that, but his body had been under severe pressure and it was a very obvious conclusion to his story.

 However, others took his drawing and everything he had created that whole day in order to make one last collection. They said it was in his honor but it was only to make money out of his talents and his death. And people did fall into that trap, buying it in large numbers, save the company from its own demise.

sábado, 5 de noviembre de 2016

Active dreaming

   When I realized, I was at the beach. But it wasn’t like all other times. This time I was the only person there. My bare feet sunk into the sand as the ocean brought water and foam to the shore. The rhythm of the water was pretty soothing and I couldn’t help but notice the most particular colors in the horizon. The sun was going down and it was a show that deserved to be seen. I felt as if I was the only person allowed to see the beauty of the world and I was thrilled to have been chosen. I sat down on the sand and watched the lights.

 It was beautiful. So much more than anything that I would have seen in other circumstances. I liked to feel the sand on my legs and feet, on my hands as I watched an iridescence in the horizon. It was just like a rainbow forming but not in the sky but there, far in the horizon, over the ocean. It was so weird to be able to see it and to be there in my yellow trunks, the ones I loved to wear every time I actually went to the beach. They were my favorite and, of course, I was wearing them as I saw the most spectacular natural show.

 I knew nothing that I saw was actually real. Not the beautiful colors and tones, not the sand in my hands or even my yellow trunks. My brain had made copies of many experiences and was using them as I slept, replicating memories with some amazing twists. I didn’t mind to be in such a wonderful dream, I wanted to stay there more in order to be able to enjoy once more everything that I had loved before and even actually enjoy it this time. It often happens in real life that you don’t notice the world because of stupid little things.

 That dream was bases on one of the many times I had been to the beach but it also used one memory that I almost never remembered, which was walking by the shore during the winter. It was the only time I saw the beach empty so I guess my brain combined a little bit of each experience to create what I was watching. The show in the horizon, which ended soon enough, was something out of my head. I have no idea how it created all of that beauty but I was glad to have seen it and to have been able to enjoy such a beautiful spectacle.

 I stood up and walked a little bit. The sand was nicer than normal. I realized that my memory of the actual sand of that beach had not been used to create that space. Some memory of another beach had been used for the sand, as it was not as rough or coarse as the actual one that I had felt all over my body when I had visited that urban beach. The sand on which I was walking on came from a memory of some volcanic beach that I had visited many years ago with some friends and with… With someone else I had completely forgotten about until then.

 Of course, he was suddenly there. His face was partly in shadows, as I sadly didn’t remember what he looked like. I did recall he was tall and rather skinny. He wore those exact trunks to the beach, those blue ones that seemed to be too large for him. I remember he was drunk most of the time we were there. I guess that’s why nothing happened: after I rejected him because he was been too annoying, I saw him sneaking into a bedroom with a girl we had met earlier on the beach. That didn’t hurt me but it made me feel I was right about him all along.

 He disappeared from the beach and I decided to keep walking. As I did, building and trees began to appear on the side, just crossing a road. Again, that mix of things was the results of many memories trying to create something I didn’t quite remember. One of the buildings was the one I stayed in during a trip to Barcelona and the other was my hotel in Rio and the park was the one I played in my childhood. Seeing all that together gave me a slight headache so I decided to keep walking, closing my eyes for a short time.

 When I opened them, I was somewhere else. I was still barefoot and actually completely naked. No yellow trunks or any other piece of clothing. And it was happening in the worst place possible: it was my high school’s theater. I ran to the side, behind the curtain, and apparently no one saw me. I looked into the crowd and didn’t recognize anyone. Then again, none of their faces were actually clear and perfect. They were all in shadows. It was obvious that memory was kind of repressed or I just didn’t remember any of them at all.

 Suddenly, a bunch of people appeared on stage and they started doing a dance. Then it clicked: I was in my senior year performance for my physical education class. As I was a really lazy person for sports, and also sucked at them hard, I had entered the girl group where they danced and did rather easy things. It was a very sexist thing to have but I was obviously not against it. It gave me a way to escape the sports and the laughter of all the other guys in high school. So I didn’t mind I had to dance to any type of music.

 Then, we all appeared on the beach and I saw myself perform there, on the sand by the ocean. It was beautiful and it really improved the actual memory, which I never really recalled because I never thought about high school. It had been such a trying moment for me that I just attempted to erase every single memory that had to do anything with that time. Of course, the brain never forgets every single thing and that dance routines, as bad as it was, was one of the memories preserved.

 When the act was finished, they all disappeared and I stayed in the beach alone, walking as the wind moved my hair. I was aware that it was only me who controlled everything that was happening in the dream. I was the one deciding to go to my high school or to stay at the beach or to mix up both things to improve one of the memories. I could have woken up a long time ago but I wasn’t doing that and I had no idea why. What was it? What was I doing there that seemed so important? The past didn’t have any clues or magic for me.

 I decided to go for a swim and ran to the water. I jumped into it and water splashed all over the place. I moved my arms fast, trying to propel myself further into the ocean, farther from the beach than in any other time. I knew I couldn’t get hurt so I forced my body and my mind. When I emerged from the water, I didn’t saw the beach anymore. Instead, I was in a swimming pool I had when I was little. I had fallen into it once, fully clothed but that was not the memory I was in there for. Actually, I didn’t even know if it was a memory.

 No one else beside me was there. I climbed the stairs out of the water and then walked towards the door and opened it. Yes, I entered the house through the kitchen and then the living room. It was amazing that I could remember everything about that house. I loved the bedrooms there and also the small room upstairs as it was just like the secret hideout I had always wanted to have. I was again in my yellow trunk but no water was dripping from them and I was glad that was the case because that place was too precious to mess it up.

 I decided to exit through the front door. On the other side, there was only darkness. I couldn’t see or hear anything but after a while, I did feel something. It was someone else there, with me. We hugged and gently touched each other’s bodies. We then kissed very softly and then more and more until we lay on the invisible ground and made love right there. Everything felt so real; I could almost smell his skin and feel his breathing on my neck. It was perfect but it ended soon enough. A very dim light went on and I could just see a glimpse of his back.


 It was cruel from me to do that to myself. But maybe it had not been me in control all the time. Who knows, maybe something else gets into our dreams with us and plays around with our thoughts and memories. Or maybe it was me and I was just attempting to make a point. Anyway, when I woke up I was really warm and had to drink two glasses of orange juice to compensate for all that walking. And as I did that, I realized I remembered every single thing about the dream. That made me smile.