His exquisitely tailored business suit. His light brown eyes full of warmth and laughter. The thunderous applause which showed no sign of slowing down after the grandiose speech. The applause only seemed to continue to build in intensity as the minutes ticked by. It had reached fever pitch now and the room boomed reverberating the sounds of splendor. His head was tilted slightly downwards and while most people would not have noticed him as a humble man, I saw him differently that slight downward tilt of the head as a sign of submission. The gentle piano like fingers caressed the polished gloss of the cocktail which was raised into the air in an Gatsby inspired manner. I remember reading that novel when it first came out in the summer of 1922. My late husband had been so inspired by the story of romance that he had spontaneously taken the yacht out for a summer in the Mediterranean waters. What a blissful few weeks we had had together. The scandalous bikini I had worn and the sun kissed cheeks that had made his dimples cuter if that was even possible. My vision begins to fade and stumble down deep in circles. I awake gasping for air but only a mucous contraption of water meets my lips. The year is 2055 and I had just experienced the memories of a woman of great wealth and stature. My own life was nothing more than a monotonous drivel which yearned for the embrace of the artificially generated euphoria of the machine.

Blackness… I was back in the Roman style in opera theatre and I too was clapping along with the unnaturally attractive men and women around me. Why shouldn’t I fall in love? I inwardly ponder as my hands somehow remain extremely energetic. In this world, I can have whatever I want and I choose that man in front of me. The man in control of the crowd and in control of destiny itself.