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June 11, 2004
Just walking throught the park slower and slower...

Just walked through the park a little bit. It is a perfect evening for that.I just wandered in, on Columbus Circle and just kept slowing down since. The pain enveloped runners slowly turned into blurs, the bicyclists as well. I wandered by the Sheep’s meadow, and on to the lake. I was slow enough by then to actually see school of fish in the murky water, then the sparrow pretending to be a water bird. And the turtles. They were the colorful alien heads, sticking their nostrils out of the wet green. Taking pictures did not really make sense the batteries are dying anyway, it seems.
Then there was the family of raccoons. A mother, perhaps and two little ones, high in the tree above me. Right there in the middle of the park. They slowly crawled down the trunk of the tree, as if it were covered with special raccoon glue, and then the mother dove in first into one of the large ast holes, very high about the street level. Her legs stuck out of the hole for a while and they were folded in a way as if she were a calf about to be born by the tree. Some of the onlookers on the path below wanted to count the animals. Some of them saw three, some saw up to five. It was somehow about the numbers. I just kept walking, until I found this bench here, right outside of the ramble, a very different kind of wild place. I would not really want to be here after dark, but I know that many like to. It is a famous meeting place, and no buildings can be seen from here, and so no windows have a view of what happens here after dark,
I will keep moving, I am not very far from home now. Just always wanted to be able to write directly in the park. And it is quite pleasant actually. Once a peaceful place is found, it is possible to write little notes outside. I somehow thought that it could be a bit too distracting, but it works… maybe… maybe I am just in a bubble of an illusion. Maybe the things written here will turn into worthless dust as soon as they enter the context of a website… but maybe that’s okay as well. The words here are mere hints, little pointing arrows towards experiences I can not really translate into language anyway…
And that is not a bad thing either, I guess…
A little woman is playing with her giant dog, right here behind me on he meadow that seems to have a bald spot, right in the middle of it.
A couple, holding hands, just walked by, talking about “Karen’s dog”, and how different he was… and maybe he was not…
The lanterns just went on. I should really keep walking now. Just keep walking…
The woman and the giant dog are walking into the ramble.



Posted by: 990000 on June 13, 2004 11:22 PM
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