Carousel felt pretty normal in the weeks that followed. There wasnât much we could do about the mysterious Fiesta. If it meant that somebody else was in the centre then it seemed inevitable we would eventually meet them. But we werenât going to go out looking. They would have to come to us.
Plus we werenât exactly hiding away or keeping quiet. If anything there was more of a party atmosphere than ever. Lizzy had pulled together some DJ decks and a projector and had taken to turning the dome into a weirdo abandoned club with music mashed to old sci-fi movies. Rocky would coast around on a series of bikes and scooters in a kind of Zen state that belied his entrapment, while Taylor and I would hang out on a couple of deckchairs from Backyard Bonanza, drinking a new region of wine and looking up at the dim twinkleof stars through the distant hole in the dome.
Weâd often talk of how we might scale the long, curving walls to reach freedom. The top of the dome was three storeys up and made predominantly of glass. Without cleaning, the glass had developed a greenish film that looked slippery as hell. If a rope could be somehow thrown up to catch on the top, and the weight of the climber was not enough to pull the whole structure down, scaling the slippery exterior would probably result in you breaking your neck in the sweet fresh air of freedom.
Drinking away to Lizzyâs maniacal performances led to more bizarre ideas involving catapults and skate ramps.
I was getting through a lot of reading, more than I ever have before, and started thinking about working on a few short stories to see if that was something I might want to do. I kept quiet about the focus of my reading, leaving Taylor and Lizzy with something to gossip about in their now banal lives. I think that gossip was one of the things they missed the most. Their lives pre-Carousel seemed pretty full and there were always things to discuss regarding other bands, touring venues, girlfriends, shopping, haircuts. The list was long and constantly updated.
One night Lizzy actually started writing a list of the things she missed on the floor. Taylor and I frowned upon this initially as it seemed to go against our pact of keeping a clean and tidy centre. But then Rocky drifted over and tagged HIGH SCHOOL GIRLS in massive cursive letters outside Smiggle. It gave him one of the biggest smiles we had seen and somehow made the whole thing okay.
I kind of liked it now. Maybe not the writing so much, but discovering what the others had done. Walking down to Pure ânâ Natural for breakfast and noticing a huge B outside Myer, then following it along until it spelt out BEACH.
One day I stopped outside JBâs and noticed a tiny, beautiful word scribed in the corner. I couldnât stop staring at it. It said
Mum
.
Taylor continued working her way around the centre checking the doors. The events surrounding the car park didnât seem to put her off. She was happy with the routine and hopeful that one of the thousands of doors would swing open to reveal some sunshine and a logical reason for us being here.
Generally I thought it was best for all of us to assume this would never happen and get on with living as best we could. I donât think it was resignation or giving up. You just couldnât think of Carousel with normal logic or it would do your head in.
I started to notice that Rocky was looking paler than normal and slightly flabby, despite his thin frame. He was always on a bike but with the smooth floors and new tyres, riding around the centre didnât really require any effort. So I goaded him into doing some daily exercise to keep him, and me, in some kind of health.
We tried a bunch of things before settling on a hybrid form of indoor soccer played in a rectangular arm of the central corridor that was kept vacant for exhibitions, charity car raffles and school performances. It was pretty normal for a shiny new car to be parked
Plus we werenât exactly hiding away or keeping quiet. If anything there was more of a party atmosphere than ever. Lizzy had pulled together some DJ decks and a projector and had taken to turning the dome into a weirdo abandoned club with music mashed to old sci-fi movies. Rocky would coast around on a series of bikes and scooters in a kind of Zen state that belied his entrapment, while Taylor and I would hang out on a couple of deckchairs from Backyard Bonanza, drinking a new region of wine and looking up at the dim twinkleof stars through the distant hole in the dome.
Weâd often talk of how we might scale the long, curving walls to reach freedom. The top of the dome was three storeys up and made predominantly of glass. Without cleaning, the glass had developed a greenish film that looked slippery as hell. If a rope could be somehow thrown up to catch on the top, and the weight of the climber was not enough to pull the whole structure down, scaling the slippery exterior would probably result in you breaking your neck in the sweet fresh air of freedom.
Drinking away to Lizzyâs maniacal performances led to more bizarre ideas involving catapults and skate ramps.
I was getting through a lot of reading, more than I ever have before, and started thinking about working on a few short stories to see if that was something I might want to do. I kept quiet about the focus of my reading, leaving Taylor and Lizzy with something to gossip about in their now banal lives. I think that gossip was one of the things they missed the most. Their lives pre-Carousel seemed pretty full and there were always things to discuss regarding other bands, touring venues, girlfriends, shopping, haircuts. The list was long and constantly updated.
One night Lizzy actually started writing a list of the things she missed on the floor. Taylor and I frowned upon this initially as it seemed to go against our pact of keeping a clean and tidy centre. But then Rocky drifted over and tagged HIGH SCHOOL GIRLS in massive cursive letters outside Smiggle. It gave him one of the biggest smiles we had seen and somehow made the whole thing okay.
I kind of liked it now. Maybe not the writing so much, but discovering what the others had done. Walking down to Pure ânâ Natural for breakfast and noticing a huge B outside Myer, then following it along until it spelt out BEACH.
One day I stopped outside JBâs and noticed a tiny, beautiful word scribed in the corner. I couldnât stop staring at it. It said
Mum
.
Taylor continued working her way around the centre checking the doors. The events surrounding the car park didnât seem to put her off. She was happy with the routine and hopeful that one of the thousands of doors would swing open to reveal some sunshine and a logical reason for us being here.
Generally I thought it was best for all of us to assume this would never happen and get on with living as best we could. I donât think it was resignation or giving up. You just couldnât think of Carousel with normal logic or it would do your head in.
I started to notice that Rocky was looking paler than normal and slightly flabby, despite his thin frame. He was always on a bike but with the smooth floors and new tyres, riding around the centre didnât really require any effort. So I goaded him into doing some daily exercise to keep him, and me, in some kind of health.
We tried a bunch of things before settling on a hybrid form of indoor soccer played in a rectangular arm of the central corridor that was kept vacant for exhibitions, charity car raffles and school performances. It was pretty normal for a shiny new car to be parked
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