The music starts slowly for one of those emotional build-ups that hope to leave you breathless by the end of the song. And I'm waiting, I'm waiting for that moment when the obscure lyrics take you out of here, somewhere, nowhere. I'm waiting for it, but it doesn't happen. I'm old now, but that is hardly the problem. It doesn't happen because I won't let it.
Control, of course, at all cost. I will choose my own fucking dreams, I won't let a short-sighted, manufactured cultural product manipulate my emotions and distract me from what is real.
The phone rings and it interrupts both the music and my thoughts.
- Hello?
- Give it a rest, sis.
- What?
- Give it a rest.
- But what? Who?
The caller hangs up, leaving me confused and I get up, walk across my flat and take look at the cold street below. As I start to drift away again, someone knocks at my door. I hesitate and the knocking comes again, more insistent. My legs start on their own and carry me to the door. I open it to find a rabbit the size of a pony looking at me, It's fur a mess of brown and grey hair. I freeze in fear, lost in it's gaze, and it stretches up on it's rear legs, extends a paw towards me and says, in a voice that sounds like it was recorded from an old vinyl: “Follow me”.