As I stepped out of the apartment yesterday afternoon, I was struck by the sky, its dramatic colors and uneven, shifty composition. The sky was performing a play by Brecht. Mother Courage comes to mind. The sky's very virtue was to precipitate its own demise. It was clear to me that something so ravishing could not last long. So I had to pick up the pace and follow it. And follow I did. I rushed after the lines and shapes and colors that where disappearing irreversibly as the darkness that usually accompanies night time was settling in. At one moment I paused and thought to myself: the urban sky seems so tormented.
No comments:
Post a Comment