diving observations

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imagine diving into a day on one end, then making some desperate strokes, maybe some little grasps for air, and then coming out all wet and exhausted on the other end. this is how today felt. well, some of the gasps of air were incredibly fresh and invigorating, but most of the day had the shape of a tunnel with no windows, just two little s at the end(?) of the tunnel, coming closer and closer.
So here we are. I will need to catch up with drawings again. It is not easy to draw inside of a tunnel, you know...

Oh, there were actually some really incredible moments today. One of the moments involved the fantasy of a library. It was quite a mouth watering experience and it was one of the fantasies that are like a little spark that can set an entire barn of ideas on fire. (it would really not make sense to explain it any further.)

A different moment was in the subway (again). I was on the local train, going downtown, when I noticed that every single person in the car was really holding on to some-thing. It was a very simple but incredibly interesting revelation.
It all started with this couple, at a door away from me. They were having a conversation and the man kept touching and grabbing this one sly bulging spot on the woman's lower back. She was wearing a very tight top, so it was all right there, her two symmetric soft spots on her back, his hand on one of them, moving, as if to hypnotise the little animal under the skintight fabric. It seemed to work. The woman was holding on to his pocket.
Next to them was a younger African American woman, holding on to a story hidden on the pages of a rather pretty book. She was probably on page 120 of 350, still a while to go. I was not sure in her case if she was holding on to the book, or if the author of the book (not pictured here) was actually holding her by the edge of her attention, using a thin string called "the plot"...
An older lady next to this reader was holding on to her groceries. A mother was holding on to her child. The child was holding on to a toy, well one of her hands was holding on to the toy. The child was looking to the fast moving outside of the train, the depth of the dark subway tunnel. Or was the child looking at her own reflection?, looking at the aging glass, the glass that reflects the future looks of anybody who dares to stare.
Next to the child was a big guy. He was also African American, he could have been seven feet tall and very heavy as well. His training pants had a large 97 embroided on the leg. He was holding on to a spiral book, and a ballpoint pen. He was writing poetry, I guess. His face was so incredibly serious.
By the door stood a woman, she must have been Italian? She was holding on to Vogue Uomo, a rather thin edition. She did not consuming the magazine, she was devouring it...
The train door opened and several passengers entered and certain left. A very tall woman with short blond hair walked in. She was wearing a gents shirt and a pin stripe skirt that barely covered her rather well shaped knees.
She sat down between the woman with the book and the mother with groceries, child and toy. She pulled out her Blackberry, one of those little portable email devices. I did not really pay attention to her but when I happened to glance in her direction again, the device in her hand had transformed itself into a passionate and yet very kind lover. He was there kissing her face, he was there playing with her hair. He even unbuttoned her shirt a bit and was about to kiss her neck.
It was an incredible scene. There she was, still holding a little piece of technology, and yet the expression on her face, the laughter, the glow in her eyes were so intimate, so warm, so loving. It really felt as if the Blackberry were her lover. Seeing her there, being touched intimately by little words on a tiny screen, somehow really made my day.
It somehow made me happy to see that it was possible for love to crawl through the strangest cracks and to find its way into the oddest places.
It also reminded me of my library fantasy earlier in the day. (It involved books and hidden traveling messages, to give away a tiny bit.)
There was a circle, a surface, a boat?... I was still diving, but it was not inside of a tunnel... for a moment there was no tunnel, there was no need for windows, there was just an ocean... filled with messages, exactly like the one that went straight into this woman's heart.
It felt nice and warm... almost healing.
It was again time for me to leave the train.
The touching couple left the train with me.
They took a different exit.
I was in a tunnel again...
still here...
oh well...
glad I remembered those people holding on to... things?... Not really, I guess.

1 Comment

beautiful :)

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This page contains a single entry by Witold published on July 16, 2003 11:30 PM.

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