green emotions

The wind picks up. Papers, Green Party signs, rubbish everywhere. The rally was yesterday, but the intensity and spirit, that was so powerful, still lingers. Still here, alive like the sun burning, as it rises in the morning sky.

Scattered papers. “VOTE GREEN!” Covers the pavement like paper mache. Birds eye view. White on grey asphalt. Green signs that lie silently, no hands to hoist high, no mouths to voice behind, just a memory. Irony. Litter dispersed carelessly throughout the street. Styrofoam. The stage, standing alone is still erect, but slightly dismantled. Soon enough, it too will be taken down for another event, loitering.

Just like the stale city smog that enfolds the election stage. The scent of stagnant marijuana still carried from the BCMP vapor lounge. Fragrant smells of flora flourish the embedded pavement. A foil of the potent dope scent. The stench of automobile gas and construction dust, highlights struggle for the campaign.

There is no immediate sound. Listen more closely. Accept the echoes of the debates that took place the day before. All the strong ideas, presented, that were so easily forgotten. Like bombs, words were feared. Words suggesting change, for the better. Busing, biking or carpooling. All these thoughts were exposed and voiced yesterday, but today are sadly overlooked. Towards the future, there will be no such thing as vegetation, trees will be fake and gardens will be destroyed. The cycle will repeat itself to the next election.

Election time. The temperature is moderate. Slight wind. The ambience is not affected by the weather, but the energy. Hope, anticipation, excitement for a better tomorrow. Energy that cannot be obtained from sugar, but from hard intellectual work.  Tis’ vibrant. Some say, one can feel emotions in special places, such as synagogues or other holy spaces. Places of historical relevance. Emotions that loiter in the air.

Four years. Waiting. Suffering. Wanting something more then economic boosts. Stop. Look. Smell. Listen. Feel.  Come to terms with these senses and reflect. This is your country. It’s going down a deep, dark path.