Saturday, 31 October 2009

Black Glass

      Hundreds of years ago man would gaze at the stars. Lying in green fields. As the world slumbered. Man would climb mountains to finally clamber to the summit and gaze down and see.Rivers resembling silver lace resting peacefully across the earth and the wind moving blades of grass as if mother nature herself was stroking the land. They sat feet dangling over cliffs. Staring out to sea. Taking deep breaths. Closed eyed.

      Now we mainly question the nature of our existance in small darkend rooms. Late at night. Alone. Staring at little light boxes. Hiding ourselves from lovers and inviting strangers to see into our very souls. In the pursuit of an answer to a question that changes everyday.

      Everything in this world seems so broken. One day all life in this universe will cease to exist. There is nothing that we can do. It will either end in a big crunch where the universe will pull back in on itself. or .The universe will continue to dissipate faster and faster. Heavenly bodies will be spaced so far apart that our children will not be able to see a single star in the sky. We will be. Alone. Stars will finnally run out of fuel. The cycle of super nova, space dust, new stars, new solar systems, super nova, new space dust etc etc will finnish.

      Entropy will ensure that what ever is created is destroyed. To make way for something new. To create again. An endless beautifull cascade of moments untill. Nothing.

      We only have each other and one day we wont have that either. I wish we didnt need these fragile bodies. I wish we flowed free. Liquid. Everything and nothing. Everywhere and no where. Endless and fleeting. Like energy. Like light.

"We ARE A part which has to imitate the whole."

- Simone Weil/Brancusi

Tuesday, 20 October 2009

The Bench

      We sat on a bench. A bench whos construction was dedicated to a stranger. We sat close and listened to the sound of the sea. Sounding like a choir with fingers pressed against thier lips....hushing. The seagulls seemed to glide through the blue effortlessly resting upon the warm sea air. It was summer.

      Behind us, the noise of families with children shouting was layered against a repetitive metallic clack that gave way to the sound of the air being displaced and lubricated bearings whirling.

      We were young. Responsibility had yet to learn our names. I was witty. I made her laugh. I made her smile. I taught her how to beat box and she held my hand. We walked. Poor. Rich.

      We put our pennies together and we bought some chips. Wrapped in old newspaper pages. With fingers stained red and blue from ice saturated by concentrated syrup. We sat together as we ate and then we smiled. We watched. Happy. We sat on a bench. A blue bench by the sea.