Lumiere Reverie

By Thomas Bainbridge

A mass of wispy, dazzling droplets in the darkness. It’s a wet, pattering night, and clouds
of rain thud onto the crystalline blanketed cobblestones. The heavens are breaking, and its
contents come spilling down like a torrent, drowning the neon iridescent lights into a hazy
admixture of indistinguishable beacons, blurring the boundaries and shades into one. You
lift your head to perceive the great towering figure of the cathedral and are met with
indiscriminate splashes spitting down from above. The raincoats drip reflectively.
Umbrellas unfurled, and ringing with a monotonous crackle, poke above the crowd,
glinting like pennants. You get lost in the crowd. You’re tipsy. Sensation breaks down as
you wearily wade through the huddled clumps, damp yet awestruck. The rain seems warm,
and misty jets rise from the ground like steam from the shower floor. The puddles flicker
with purple and gold. You’re sleepy, half-dreaming. Then a bright glare catches your eyes,
and you’re vigorously pulled awake. You leave the crowd. You want peace. The artificial
shifting orbs recede as you slink away into the dark side street, seeing now only the
blazing lights of the firmament.

Illustration Credit: Zahra Haroon