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January 24, 2005
The Pigeon, the snow and the invisible lake, are the same thing as the packed subway and the slush lakes to come... It was reassuring to know where the shore ended and where the lake began. It was the memory of the ducks and the other water fowl that made it safer to be near and not enter what looked like a nicely cleaned up white plain. The lake might have been frozen underneath the snow, but why would one want to find out really? One step would mean sinking in, the second step would probably mean danger, the third would be near death? A pigeon landed just a few meters from the shore... innocently, safely. I am no pigeon. I would just die. I drew a line where I remembered the shore. And a skull, two crossed bones. Death starts here... Most birds decided to stay in trees. They tried to face the wind, intuitively working their aerodynamics. Their guano made the snow underneath greenish yellow. Splashes of color. The bus which I wanted to take to the train this morning did not even stop to pick up new passengers. It was packed with what looked like a mix of humans and bags and puffy jackets. It appeared as if the driver had to cut a tunnel through some fabric in order to see the white street ahead. Walking to the train was not all too bad. The snow was still frozen enough to not turn into those infamous New York slush lakes, those brown puddles that have the ability to swallow daring pets. The train was another version of the bus picture. Once it pulled into the station and once the doors opened, it became quite obvious that nobody from the platform would be able to squeeze themselves in addition to that well pressed bunch of human sardines. The jackets looked ironed. Certain trains apparently did not run at all and so the ones that ran were instapressed. It might be time now to go back into the cold. I am glad to be able to regain bits and pieces of clarity. I hope that there will be enough energy in me to actually move things... into some useful direction. Soon... It is hard to believe that it is two years her that I posted that photograph with the sockdog. Two years... I hoped to be in a slightly different place in two years... hmm... Maybe in two years from now?... What am I waiting for?... Maybe there was no lake... or maybe the ice was thick enough. Maybe it is not really about the lake? Hmm... The pigeon, the snow, the lake... I have the feeling that they are all one and the same thing, somehow... hmm... and maybe the people squeezed into the subway car are that same thing too... I think they might be.