God dammit my pants are way too tight…around the thighs.
As Clement gracefully stretches himself over the warm, metallic edifice of the Disney Music Hall, his burgundy coat radiating with a fierce energy of its own, all I can think is “Fuck, my thighs!” I was impressed at how quickly he becomes comfortable in his own skin on such a warm day. Like a child covered in mud, unfazed by the dirt and the water slowly drying into clay, he still manages a genuine smile against what I assume would be obvious discomfort.
The more he becomes the model I hoped he would be the more my pants feel like a tiny cage, desperately trying to hold two very angry jaguar cubs (The pants are small so the animal must be small. House-cats would also fit in my pants but I’ve seen house cats in a cage; adorable, often content. Jaguars in a cage; angry, sad. My thighs; angry, sad. Science.)
The walls of the Music Hall stand like splashing mercury frozen in time. I follow Clement’s reflection as it moves along the mercury walls to a gorgeous walkway on the south-end of the incredible structure. Two towering tidal waves of metal stretch high above our heads reflecting the gentle blue of the sky. Between these two colossal mirrors I am transported hundreds of years into the future where everyone is so fucking handsome they make their buildings out of reflective materials so people can look at themselves. I take a quick glance at my own reflection and realize that sadly, we are still in 2015, still a part of the very, very flawed world.
As my model and his reflection continue to move effortlessly against brushed steel I continue to be displaced in time as I bear witness to his ability to shape a moment with his sharp features and willing attitude. Without a word of warning he turns a corner and I am left to follow this tear in time toward the west-end of the future.