Jennifer

Through the streaks of dirt on her ancient windows she saw the familiar world of her view. She saw the junction of two streets just to her right, about four floors below, at which the cars parallel to her were stationary, waiting their turn to cross when the hanging yellow traffic light allowed. There were few cars about this time, the morning rush hour having come and gone. This traffic had a lesser urgency to it that the traffic of that earlier period of the day. Drivers didn’t screech away from the lights so often now, only those very late for something or the ‘wide boys’ intent on racing the, usually oblivious, other cars around them.

 

Jennifer liked to watch at this time of the day. Her view became punctuated with people that she would normally not see, scattered amongst those whose daily or weekly routines were known to her in great detail. The passing strangers mixed with the daily ‘ghosts’, were the ones whose fleeting transit into her day gave her hope. They never seemed burdened by the everyday; they appeared to have purpose, direction, a point to being. They were not just some aimless empty vessels drifting lifelessly through her world every day, repeating their patterns of behaviour, chained to routine. These people were fully captained and crewed ships on voyages to places, to things, to events, to moments that may bring them pain, but would at least bring them something.

Things had been this way for Jennifer ever since she had started to lose her words, again. Jennifer had always considered words to be her closest ally and her most supportive friends. She had played with them, laughed with them and at them, found comfort in them and enjoyed their company. She had studied them and learned their many wonderful meanings and their powers to break barriers, create illusion and show her worlds. Now that they had left her, she was lost without them. In her thoughts were places and peoples, situations and lives, characters and circumstances, but she had no means to express them, no method by which to deliver them to this place, to bring them to here, to life. She had not felt so abandoned and isolated for many, many years.

For the new album we have decided to write a story to go with the album and all of the songs make up parts of this story. The above is an extract from the story about Jennifer.