descriptive writing #3

ehem ya, yang ke3. maaf dulu ah.

You are in a bright white walls room full of elitists. That means you are in an art gallery in an opening night. You remember queuing before. Waiting for your turn to fill the guestbook with you names and emails so that they can spam your inbox with event calendars. If you’re lucky you can get yourself a catalogue that usually end up in your toilet as a thing that you could read while taking a dump.
You realized that this very crowded situation is not helping you in understanding and appreciating the artworks, so you go out of the room heading to the open bar. With a glass of bintang on your left hand and a small paper plate full of peanuts on your right, you go to the amphitheatre where you can find some of your friends, teachers, and acquaintances, watching a performance. it usually is an emerging popular band.
Have no idea about what is the performer trying to show, you’re talking to your friends about the juiciest gossips on art world, or asking for some suggestion from lecturers.
Yet, you still feel lonely. Alienated by people around you, and drown with random thoughts. A breeze of Dago Pakar wind suddenly wakes you up from your contemplating mood. You put on your hood, and button up your shabby jeans jacket. With hands in your pockets, you’re walking pass the open bar, the guestbook, your friends, your teachers, the snobs, the mediocre, the butt kissers, and finally you reach the darkest area of the gallery.
The parking area.
There you don’t feel like before. This is where you feel most convenient. The sincere smile of the parking guy and his loyal and dedicated service for looking after your motorbike is indeed the most real contribution to society in this gallery area.