crowded place - quotes and descriptions to inspire creative writing
To say I feel drown in crowds makes as much sense as a raindrop protesting to join the ocean... but I do. I feel the energy, I love the vibe, and then I want to find a quite tree in a quite spot to feel serenity once more. I'm the raindrop that falls on the beach, sits on a pebble and adores the ocean from close by, savouring the salty aroma and the motion of the waves.
The crowd has a life of its own, the vibrant clothes shine in the morning light and the people move like enchanting shoals of fish. There is chatter between sellers and buyers, old friends catching up, new friends made. It's busy for sure, but the hustle and bustle brings a life to this city I wouldn't want to be without.
I love this city with every fibre of my being, sure there are thieves in the crowds, but for every one of them there are a hundred angels in the rough. These folks that mill with forlorn faces and broken eyes have hearts of pure light within them just waiting for the right circumstances to break loose. It is our basic human programming to be good, kind and loving, hardcoded into our DNA. So bring me the crowds and the unwashed masses, they are my angels, they are the salt of the earth, the water in the rivers and the air we breathe. That's why I'm never happier than on the busy street. These people are my kin, my kind.
Each person in the crowd moves as if unseeing hands drag them this way and that, pulling their eyes to one thing and then another. They respond in predictable ways, each of them with a goal to achieve for the day. But underneath that is free will, the ability to truly choose their own path. Sometimes I engage them in conversation just to wake up the part of themselves that is capable of taking charge, making choices. Then they're off, back on auto-pilot, the most dangerous mode a human being can slip into.
I had never been claustrophobic before, but in that almighty swell of humanity I felt the panic rise in my chest. When they moved I had to also and if my feet failed to keep up I risked being trampled underfoot. Even in the bitter January cold I felt the warmth of all those bodies pressing in. People were gaunt and serious, there was hardly a single utterance in the thousands strong throng, save a few frightened yelps. There was nothing for it but to move with the crowd. I could smell them too, the people I mean, an unholy agglomeration of perfumes, body odour and over-applied cologne. A police siren came from behind on the avenue, startling the seething mass. Soon came the spreading white haze of tear gas and it was all over. In their frustration and fear people were stripped of all social conditioning, it was each person for themselves.
In that place I could be anyone, or perhaps no-one at all. The people flowed like rivers, never stopping for obstacles but swirling around them. On those wide avenues with wilted trees, their leaves curled and blackened in in the August heat, the buildings towered on each side. A hundred years ago I expect it was pretty, the golden light on the sandstone architecture, built in the days when curves and design weren't considered superfluous. Even the street-lamps were dreamt by an artist, built by an engineer following the teachings of a scientist. On days like this, crammed in with more bodies than I could count even in a photograph, I tilt my head to the sky. The empty blue gives me the strength just to walk at the pace of the crowd and bottle my claustrophobia inside my chest.
The media conditions us to crave the spotlight, but we are happiest when part of a crowd. We love to work together, achieve a common goal and cheer each other on. I'd only ever want to be a star in a brilliant night sky, surrounded by stars equally as bright. Every person has a light, a calling, and by following it the world becomes a little less distorted, a little more healthy.
The crowd is a river of people, everyone moving in the same direction. There are only joyful faces as we head toward the stadium for the greatest rock concert on earth - music to fill us chock full of adrenaline pumping happiness. We move not like pebbles in a jar, but like water molecules flowing smoothly past one another, friends staying together with fingers entwined.
I slip into the crowd. I wouldn't trade this anonymity for anything. You can keep the podiums, only safe so long as you tow the party line. Give me the shadows and a thousand faces that look just like mine.