i tzazistries

in a club, one of mahogany floors and oak tables, one where whiskey and beer are the primary drinks of choice, one in which conversations are more about life and sorrow than of now and lust, in this club entered six women. the air was stale for a while by then, everything had settled and the only sounds were of somber talking and of glasses clinking around. the scene had by that point become still, there was no movement, men hunched over their drinks, looking deep in their honey-coloured bitter drinks, other men looked up in the ceiling wondering what to think about, and others even slept a bit.

these women, however, disrupted this heavy balance. they brought with them fresh, fruity smells. they entered wearing a mish-mash of colours and styles. the only thing cohesive about them is their uncohesiveness... and their identically frizzy short hair. their skin, pale as the sky around the sun, made them seem to glow. maybe they were. they each carried a case. some cases the size of them, some cases the size of their arm.

the patrons all turned and looked. the ones asleep escaped their slumber, the ones staring at the fake sky found something to think about, and the spell of the honey-coloured bitter drinks faded. the women responded by just standing there, imperceptibly breathing, scanning with just their eyes. and in unison, without a word or signal, they walked. and they happened upon an elevated platform. it had three round tables, each with three chairs. they placed their cases on each table and opened the cases.

out came instruments, equally as balance-disrupting as their owners. by this point, the air had been infected with life, the scene bustling as the patrons tried to get closer seats and the bartender began to pick up the pace. he was now making cocktails. the women set up their instruments, entirely silently. they tuned without making a sound, almost as if they just knew their instruments so well that they didn't need to hear them speak.

the women looked at each other, and the bass player began. a walking bass line that hopped and frolicked through fields. then came the piano, setting in stone the chords the bass implied, the chords that the first verse will follow. after a couple measures, in came the violin, flute, and two horns. the lead quartet played identical notes at times and wide-open harmonies at others. their rhythms were sweeping, a sweet contrast to the hoppy piano and bass.

and the patrons started dancing. and the women kept playing. and the bartender kept tending. and the floor started feeling the fresh drops of mojitos and martinis. the ceiling opened up, and now the sky was in full view. the stars shining above. one could even be mistaken to observe the stars dancing...

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