As you walk down the quirky, retro-anarchy style staircase you are hit by a smell of dust and wood that has been drying in the afternoon sun glaring in from the window. Motes of dust glisten like tiny specks of gold as they catch the sunlight, seemingly defying gravity for a split second before moving slowly on into the shadows further down, you quickly capture the moment and post it on facebook, tag 'moments like these'.
You smile to no one in particular as you run your hand down the small piece of banister at the top of the quirky but fun stairs and take an arty picture with your iphone to capture the mood and moment, stopping only briefly to add a sepia filter to it before posting, tag 'Neo-urban decadence at it's finest'. A distant yet familiar sound caresses your ears, the welcoming womb-like hum of electric mingled with the rhythmic beat of some tribal-didgeridoo music remix, the quiet intermingled voices of a handful of small private conversations drifting up to your ears from the gloomy depths below, occasionally punctuated by a high pitched giggle, you are not sure if it is a girl or boy.
You walk down the stairs musing the artistry and craftsmanship that has gone it's creation, a mixture of reclaimed urban 'trash' like old pallets and antique chairs which would have otherwise ended up on a fire pile. As you reach the main floor you notice light airy, tie-dye fabrics are hanging from the ceiling to lower and 'soften' it for a 'chillout' area, undoubtedly to help with the comedown from the magic mushrooms, E and marijuana later on. On many of the sofas and furniture are a plethora of cushions from china (would not conform with fire retardant regulations) scattered all about to help people relax and chill. As you walk past groups of people they look up at you, nod and smile, their eyes glazed and as innocent as a fawn.
Now the air changes, a cloying heady mixture of 'essential oils', josticks and marijuana cigarettes with a hint of vegan stirfry.
Dozens of candles have been placed all over the wooden furniture by stoned, childlike idiots with no common sense or fire hazard awareness. Looking around you notice all the smoke and fire detectors will have been purposefully disabled to stop the clouds of weed smoke and illegale hotplate cooking steam/heat setting them off.
Although bright during the day, as evening falls so has the visibility. Harsh bright LEDs or halogen bulbs would hurt the sensitive eyes of these delicate child like nymphes that inhabited this mystical place. Here, away from the windows, the only light is soft waxy orange/yellow cast from 40watt incandescent bulbs and candles. No one would have bother to check the rating of which lamps and light fitting took which type or power of bulb because that's all just bullshit that 'the man' uses to control people and rip people off anyway.
Looking about the labyrinthian maze of false walls, open wooden room dividers and curtains you find draws, cupboards and corners stacked with oil paints, thinners, acrylics, spray paint cans along with piles of clothes, blankets, hair products and ipads. Pinned to the walls are seemingly hundreds of pictures, paintings, instagram printouts, art, all abstract yet somehow meaningful in ways you are unable to comprehend.
You see the electrics are worse than poo-in-street tier, with daisy chains of extenders and splitters haphazardly strung through the place. An alarm bell rings in the back of your mind, but just as you are about to ask about the safety here a slender male dressed in holed, paint splattered jeans and a long sleeve t-shirt 2 sizes too big for him comes over and smiles, says 'hi, welcome to our lair, glad you could make it, only the cool kids come here. Wants some?' He hold out a reefer. You take a couple of long tokes admiring the huge 4 inch gauge earrings he has and neat tribal tattoos on his hands, the nagging alarm bell fades away to nothing, he takes you by the hand to a small sectioned off area, the floor is covered with cushions, a girl with green hair giggles and flirts with two nu-males as she shows them her new nipple piercing. They all look up and smile, beckoning you sit with them, a man with the dreadlocks offers a small white tablet and says 'would you like to come down the rabbit hole with us?' Feeling relaxed and knowing you are at one with your own kind, you thank him and take it with some hand filtered rain water. As the drug kicks in you feel immensely overwhelmed with love for your fellow spirit-kin, you just know tonight is going to be one hell of a night.
