He must have been waiting more than 40 minutes. It was raining but he did not mind. The night was as usual – orange light from the street lamps reflecting on glistening pavements. Behind him the Brighton Pier was showing the way. He stared at the lights for a few minutes. They were flashing periodically; when they were off he could see the seagulls sitting on the letters. Stupid seagulls, how he hated them. Shitting everywhere and all that.
How long will it be like this? How many people have waited here before him, alone, passing their time watching this? He heard laughter. It was just a drunk couple probably going home. He turned around and covered his face in the shadows. He stole a glance at the Grand Hotel. What a pompous, posh-infested, vermin-laddered rat-hole. He spat on the floor with contempt.
A few more minutes passed. He was hungry, but it was no time for mundane thoughts. He smoked a cigarette and threw the butt on the seaside. Strange beach. All the rocks were the same and the seashells too. You can’t credit the British with imagination.
2:44 am. It was getting close. Time to go back to his room. Out of his pockets he got the keys. Room 629.
October 1974.
Γράφτηκε με το Shadowplay στο repeat (The Killers version, original by Joy Division)
To the centre of the city where all roads meet, waiting for you
To the depths of the ocean where all hopes sank, searching for you
Moving through the silence without motion, waiting for you
In a room with a window in the corner I found truth
In the shadowplay acting out your own death, knowing no more
As the assassins all grouped in four lines, dancing on the floor
And with cold steel, odour on their bodies made a move to connect
I could only stare in disbelief as the crowds all left
I did everything, everything I wanted to
I let them use you for their own ends
To the centre of the city in the night, waiting for you
To the centre of the city in the night, waiting for you
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