I really hate being cold
(No, you don’t understand…. I REALLY hate being cold. I really, really hate it.)
And tonight it was freezing outside
And I was standing on my balcony in a t-shirt, drinking a whisky and coke.
(Shut up, I had good reason. And I had a blanket wrapped around me at least; and I even had slippers on.)
But the cold is not what’s important, what’s important was the wind chimes.
The sound of the city at 3 a.m. (that almost subsonic, collective roar/buzz) and the sound of silence (rare and fleeting, but thankfully still occasionally possible where we live) mixed with the sounds of the wind (the low howls between buildings and the high pitched whines where it screeches through the trees).
They were all just backing vocals for the wind chimes.
The ones on my balcony didn’t budge.
It was the song of some random chimes, in an unseen neighbourhood backyard, unheard ever before tonight that was what was important; that was what kept me rooted out there in the cold, happily enthralled and happily transfixed.
The sound was way more intoxicating than the drink I held in my hands could ever be.
I had to stay to listen to it, I had no choice.
Random bursts of wind randomly hitting randomly placed pieces of metal. The song could never have been pre-ordained, and yet… there was…. a symmetry to the sound, a patternless pattern, one that prodded at a deeper part of my brain.
And I was reminded then, that even Chaos itself still seeks to express itself through the beauty of creation.