Urban re:passages

The city of a thousand lost walks, Paths that lead to everywhere and nowhere and some where but else where. The paths that cross but never interlink, merged force. The tubes of a congested lung where we hurtle ourselves down dirty dank passages to half grasped success. I came here to succeed they whisper at dawn half light six years after a slow arrival. The man watches the days pass, wondering when such success will grasp him through such dull light. The book of a lost traveller is found thirty years later, it is empty, except for a pile of paper clipped expense receipts. To be born to pass through to the stop point. A hesitation as to direction and we march blind to nothing in particular but it has a neon sign of blurred focus. This city is my muse, the city as a non entity, which only flusters the calm gull. The river on Wednesday was calm but it did not bring content. A couple argue. The city makes them dry. A woman grins at the bus stop, I apply more red lipstick and walk on. We are all being watched he whispered behind me, perhaps a fragment of my own exhaustion, the bank sat on our money, the government hurl rocks at our plans, this is the city of higher heels, arguments and falsetto grimaces. The creation of an uncertain wrench of hopelessness where each success is never enough, a dominance of personal negligence to those lingering thoughts of a rural life, a misfit of half dreams. I have missed the last bus. I have drawn three maps of routes I do not remember. This is the city I dreamed of.

~ by beatricejarvis on April 27, 2009.

Posted in architecture, art, city, dance, photography, Uncategorized, urban, urban design