The days were passing by.
I was waking up every morning, looking outside my window,listening to the birds sing freely and I was dreaming my way out of this world, out of reality.
M was sleeping till late;I’ve always been an early person.I liked the silence of the house still asleep. I like the wonder of the fresh morning. Every breath was precious in the tenderness of the early hours.Sometimes I was going for a run, head in the clouds, lost in my music in my space.
The emptiness was still spacing out in my belly, that cringed painful internal torsion that I couldn’t address to any particular reason. That short breathed feeling was with me everyday.
We were running out of money, our latest “job’s shift” weren’t gone really well, indeed they were a disaster. We almost got caught twice, kicked out of few clubs, robbed by new local supplieRd. I didn’t want that life anymore. I was sick of lying to my mother, to his parents, to our flatmates to whom we were horrible, fighting on a daily basis, talking shit about each other a lot. That wasn’t the life I’d come here for at all. Our love story started to leak from each side, and I had no idea of how I could have repaired it and as well he wasn’t showing any whish to change his behaviour.
I got myself a job, a way to stay out of the house as long as possible, waitress again in a filthy bar in one of the poshest area in town.
He went to a rave party instead.
The last time I saw him that night was when he came home on acid before the party,with his friend Luca.
Luca was different from all the others, he was sweet, he was kind, he was the only one that in all of that came to me to ask me how I was doing, he was interested in me as a person. Luca was gentle, a real friend,not just a guy to smoke with.I immediately liked him, although that night he was a bit out of the ordinary I saw in him something different,perhaps a different approach to the drugs world;something more similar to my view. Somehow it was ok to the idea that he was gong out with him, I knew he was going to be safe, he would have looked after him.
Was the first time that M was going partying alone since we came to London, I usually used to go with him, this time I let him go. I wasn’t jealous or anything likely. I was just worry he wasn’t going to come back the same and I wasn’t going to be with him to understand his way of seeing the world in that particular moment,to guide him to a safe place.I believe that was my role in all of that.
When he left that night I was in bed already. I wasn’t feeling good, I was feeling out of control, I drank some beers alone, I was feeling drunk,I had eaten too much over the arising nerves that I was trying to cover up.I just wished to be the next day.
I thought they were going to a club as I would have never approved the idea of him going to a rave,especially without me.
When I woke up to go to work the morning after,he wasn’t back yet. No messages, no signs that he was still alive or at least that he was still in his body.
Was 9 am when I decide to call him. Where the fuck was him?
He picked up the phone and it was chaos. The music was loud, the reception was bad.
He told me they went to a rave along the canal. I was disgusted.
Rave were for me for addicts, for dirty people, I had all sort of idea regarding the kind of people going to these kind of parties, some sort of urban legend, a bit of myth and a lot of fear.
I hated him, badly. He was high, he was talking with his “free voice” talking with his open soul. I wish I was with him in that moment, instead I was off to work in a couple of minutes.
I went to work looking forward to see him again. I want it to prove him that I wasn’t possessive of dependent from him. I promise myself that I was going to hear what he had to say without judging him too much.
In the afternoon when I was about to step back in the house I took a deep breath and I tried my best to keep myself neutral in front of him.
He was happy, he was calm, he didn’t consume too many drugs.Although he was dirty,his new shoes destroyed,his clothes black of mud;he was shining of a beautiful light, something that I never saw in him before. A different attitude to the world,out of judgments and expectations. I was impressed and more important I was curious to hear what he had to say.
He told me his journey there, he told me about the people he had met, the way they were free and how the way of partying was different.
The party was held in a park along the canal, they were people with boats coming from nowhere and enjoying the music, they were people with tents camping there for as long as the party was going on. People from different rolesa in the london society were there coexisting together for the love of that intrigued sound that was called psy-trance music.
He told me how I would have like it a lot, especially because people there were actually talking about their experience as well as living them fully and exploring them with care. He then told me about this guy that he met. He was a pusher of course and he had the best hashish ever. His name sounded fake to me, Satirka, he was half italian, half greek half whatever in the world. He was a squatter. I hated squatters, society parasites, people living of drugs and lies. That was what I was thinking about them. But I couldn’t be more wrong. He invited me to see him, I was reluctant and intrigued. I was ready to challenge this guy with whatever he had to propose me and demonstrate that I was indeed right.
Few days later we finally went to meet him.
I’ve worn a very short skirt for the occasion and one of my hand painted/shredded t-shirt.
We went down to Battersea to his “house”.
When we got there we had to call him and make sure not to stare in front of the building not to create any suspect within the neighbours.
The building was unsuspicious,on the corner of the main street, 5 min away from the park, with the sign “bank” engraved on the top of the apparently sealed door, just on the left of the real entrance.
Luca came to open the door for us, he used to live near him and since the party he was going there often after work, to have some spliff with him or just to hang out. His friendly smile and his warmth always make me feel safe,looked after;was the first time I wasn’t feeling the urge to attract him, he was my friend, I really felt a pure connection with him, an honest guy, someone you can count on, someone who was finding his way into the world with his own support and with a high sense of true friendship that all I was seeing in him in those few times we spent together.
We went inside.
The hallway was the kitchen, a blank space with a bike and some kitchen stuff.
The way to his room was trough the stairs, I could not notice the windows covered and as I was explained after that was necessary for not showing to the neighbours that someone was living in there. Squatters live in darkness,covered with the warmth of the light passing thought the surface of multicoloured indian throw used instead of curtains.
I was nervous,walking behind them I was feeling something tingling coming up expanding trough my body.
Was like if my world was going to change forever once I’ve entered into that room.
That feeling of “something happening”, the shivering of all my organs…
What was behind that door that was making me feel like I was about to jump down a cliff?
Who was him and why M was insisting for me to know him? After 2 years together how he could possibly think that I was going to be interested in someone living life all the opposite of my ideal?
So I took a deep breath, soaking my nose in the sweet smell of the incense coming out of the room down the staircase ready for whatever was there behind…
Aria di Battersea 