Bolshevik

Bolshevik

The blitz begins. The heavens let fall from unnoticed ominous clouds. The weather instigates a soggy battering of the masses. Simultaneously, they dive. Bedecked with treasures encased in plastic, the throng seeks cover. A ship’s crew commanded by a tyrannical boatswain, pedestrians scatter with military precision. Along the deepest depths of the pavement, under a mish mash of awnings, rich brocade is quickly woven. A rigid banister is quickly constructed against shop fronts and doorways, squeezed under eaves.  Only a blimp strives on, unwilling to be defeated. Those outsiders with the wit to carry umbrellas burgeon to form a floral dance of a balustrade, proceed down the street and are lost.  The bustle, of seconds before, disintegrates. Just as gutters are overflowing, the cramped sanctuary is now brimming with exiles. How long will they have to bunker down? Caught unawares and unprepared, they baffle as to how to proceed. A babble of moans and sighs berate the skies. The self absorbed buzz of moments before dissipates to leave a united kowtowing of silence. Feet shuffle back from the bilge which ebbs along the gutter. All at once they are buxom as they accept their fate. All are merely bystanders overpowered by the might of above. Ordinarily, they lead a blinkered existence focused only upon their individual immediate goals, paying no heed to the wider picture. Their own lives are too bulky to leave any room for consideration of anyone or anything else.