The Suburbs

My world began in Suburbia; in the beginning it was a warm and comfortable little piece of isolated existence, with the houses all lined up in rows like a regiment and the sun pouring through the streets like a toppling jar of golden honey. I remember my childhood only in images and scents, like photographs soaked in the faded brown hues of nostalgia; the smell of sunscreen and insect repellent in the heat of summer, the pink and orange colour of the sky splashed against the terracotta roof tiles in the afternoons, the taste of chlorine, the smell of the tomato plants at my grandmothers house, the sound of my neighbours squealing and screeching like squabbling magpies, trying to drown each other in their backyard pool. Even then, I was more of an observer.
I used to chase rabbits and catch lady bugs in jars, I used to climb trees, when I could find them, and envelope myself in the gentle caress of the greenery. I did not have many friends, for I was homeschooled for my primary education, so I used to make friends with the animals; I used to sing with the birds, lay in the sun with the neighbourhood cats, and imagine all kinds of scenarios of which I was the main protagonist, revelling in both my keen imagination and wild animal spirit. I was an explorer, an actress, a writer of modern literature, a dancer, a wild thing.


And for all of those who are still wondering, THIS is Arcade Fire.