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July 15, 2004
A brief conversation about the blueness of the sky turns out to be yet another hint at what might be happening in the billions of brains every split second, forever, now.

3: “Wow, look, the sky is so incredibly blue.”
1: “I think it is because of that very reflective building over there, see how the sky creates a contrast with the reflection in the glass?”
They both look at the moving clouds. The sky looks so blue, it does not even look like sky.
2: (coming from across the building.) “Is somebody jumping? Who is jumping?”
4: “Nobody is jumping. We are just really impressed by the incredibly blue sky.”
2: “Oh, that’s because the air is so dry. It is very rare that the air is so dry on a summer afternoon in new york… So nobody is jumping, heh?” (out)
3: “The sky is so blue.”
1: “It is the wind, the wind is so incredibly strong. It blows away the dust particles and so the air is so clear over the city.”

3: “Isn’t it amazing how we tend to admire the reasons?… it is very odd how our minds work. We are somehow programmed to find explanations to anything and everything. How interesting that we are destined to make connections, assumptions, conclusions, explanations… I sometimes do not want to think about any explanations.”
1: “I still think it is the building. And you are being silly. If we only admired stuff without trying to explain it, we would probably not even be human. And there would definitely be no progress.”
3: “I guess…”

and across the street, a woman on her cellphone, stood in the window and complained about the dirt in her room. And just a few floors down, maybe on the 6th floor of that hotel that lost some bricks during the winter storms earlier this year, there was an older lady, her back against the glass, her shirt’s design perfectly created for just this moment in time. The climax of its existence.
Down in the belly of the skyscraper, a man broke up with his girlfriend over the phone, while urinating in the wide stall, not really set up for any of his actions.
Several tourist kids bought fake kate spade bags from the man who used to be the fatest runner in his village as a kid, but not after his leg was slashed in an argument with a drunk soldier, who happened to be a kid as well.
A bare arm of a lover pulled down the shades, one by one.
ConEd workers pulled out a cable from under the asphalt of 50th street, the driver of the truck talked on his walkie-talkie phone to somebody on the other coast.
Right next to them, the old toothless woman begged for money or cigarettes. And today she was not alone…
No time was wasted here. Not even by those who thought they tried.

And above it all. The brilliantly blue sky. (Well, behind the brilliantly white clouds, of course.)


How incredibly Cinematic you write.

Posted by: T on July 16, 2004 10:52 PM

"Another Festival so soon?" the Lord Leto asked.
"It has been ten years," the majordomo said.
Do you think by this exchange that the Lord Leto betrays an ignorance of time's

-- The Oral History
prozac online I bet Einstein turned himself all sorts of colors before he invented the

-- Homer Simpson
Bart the Genius

Posted by: Spammer on September 5, 2004 06:23 PM
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