It was late, or early, depending on one’s perception of time. We were there for the first time, I think. You were becoming more than someone I saw on the surface, standing there head-to-toe in black, your pale skin and startling blue eyes quite the contrast. I was watching you unfold the way one does as you get to know someone, as they slowly peel back the layers to you, as you let yourself fall for them. I knew I was falling hard for you.

She was parked in a car nearby, a cigarette in hand, dangling into the night air. She would lean her head out the window every so often to talk to a passerby (she seemed to know everyone) or to listen for what song was playing. When this one started up she opened the door and stepped out, singing-a-long so loudly you could not hear Bowie anymore. Her voice was powerful, beautiful and completely captivating. All your attention turned to her, as did everyone else; not that I could blame anyone, I was mesmerized, too.

At that moment I wanted to be her more than anything. I wanted the cascading red hair, the statuesque frame, the aura of a star transcending to earth, and the voice like some kind of angel, or demon, or crossbreed of both entities. I wanted to be that magical, that breathtaking, that unforgettable.

I wanted you to look at me the way I saw you looking at her.

Space Oddity (live) :: David Bowie