Ceremonies of my Generation
Through thick layers of alcohol I witnessed the ceremonies of my generation.
The search for love,
the harmlessly loud music infused with definite suggestions, the rage of loss, the sadness of rejection, the exhililaration of newly gained affection shown with the same familiar, yet incomparable gestures,
the moment of glory where one displays social splendour by ordering exuberant quantities of cheap vodka,
the gangs and packs of unlucky guys and girls singing the arm in arm the hymes of their time, longing for eventual elevation, to the highest state of their society...
All of this rushed past me, over months, several times a week.
And though I was deeply involved in it I was never part of it.
I drank, sang, danced and laughed but something kept me at distance.
However, I started to understand what people's lives were about in Plymouth...