The Disillusionists. cont'd...

It was a Tuesday evening in July. The sky was beginning to cloud over and the sun was about to set. Soft light bounced off one side of a ridge of low pressure. The city looked warm and inviting. The air could be described as seasonably cool. I lived in a part of town yet to be claimed by developers. Houses fronted on tiny lawns, barely large enough to need a mower.

We left the building, my landlay nowhere in sight, into the vibrant community full of shops, restaurants and events. The parkette across the street supported a small group of diligent dog owners. The school hosted art classes at night and photography on weekends. A community garden was sponsored by the local synagogue. I could not walk down the street for half a block without stopping to chat with someone.

But being with May was like being with a girl jesus. She would, at the same time, be plowing ahead and looking at you, smiling, seeking confirmation and still, knowing it's all good. She swung her arms as she walked, the weight of fabric fascinated her - the way it folded and fell. Heft. Fluid movement. Type and texture. Grain. Poorly designmed or ill-fitting. Renovated second hand. Seasonal shifts, styles... this is what she talked about. Nothing so immediately obvious as an outdated look she used to complain about.

I remember working with her and how clothes had drawn her into archetcture, desirablity of a structure "the estetic then clearly had to do with the people inside." Many times, in refering to something technical - the use of this material over that - one colour to the next - it was she who would connect the thing to the occupant. "Nothing so lonely as a foam-core model with no little people around it." Once in the car, May squeeked out of a parking spot smaller than the car itself. The passenger seat was damp, which made it hard to relax.

"Why a cowboy?" I asked, shifting around in the seat.

May took this as a sign to turn on the radio, which she shouted over, "I better let him explain. It's kind of convoluted but I think in the end it'll work. There isn't a whole lot to it but I don't think there'll be any sound. Maybe ambient stuff like surf and water falls, but not new-agey... Kind of 'representative'. He's looking for a broader scope, you know what I mean?"

"Uh, sure."