Piece it all together. Each time you open your eyes you see the same window frame, the same tainted glass, black and grey interior of the van. Outside, an ever changing landscape, every facet of nature on a large canvas, traces of human intervention, fences dividing wide possessions of land, electricity poles, cables holding hands over large distances as to assure the presence of someone at the other end, on the other side of this mountain where you stop seeing its path. Roads for some, train tracks for others, altogether connected in a web that you try to imagine seeing from above. And you are inside of a black bullet, friction underneath the wheels that have touched thousands of miles of the same connected roads, windows that have seen endless sceneries. They are still the same windows. Or are they not? We are on the inside, a stable creek, yet our perception is dynamic, interacting constantly with our surroundings. Our bodies adjust to the seats, feet find ways to rest, hands form into gestures and unconscious mechanisms, scattered objects are found to complement the comfort of your seat. The rhythm of your feet visiting the ground is determined by the volume of the gas tank. There you are, in a convenience store, gas station or restaurant, let the black bullet rest for a moment and yourself adjust your bones, before you take to the road like a cicle that changes at every round, just as the texture of the wheels below, holding on to everything, leaving everything behind.
Posted on: Sat, 29 Jun 2013 19:26:29 +0000