I sit atop a grassy hill, doing my best to be the world's observer. My gaze falls down upon the park, the lake, the city. Across the water the towers of downtown race towards the sky, defining the horizon through their angularity, the artifice of man. Within, people drive, walk, eat, shop, work. Every inch dedicates itself to the purposes of humanity. On either side two hills herald this hive, this contraption built to run upon sweat and blood and to create money, clothes, jobs, food, an economy. Between me and it the sun's light reflects off of the water and warms my face with energy from very far away. A police patrol boat cuts a wake through the waves and the sunlight.
Around me people talk, walk, bike, converse. Children play and couples sit on blankets, talking on their cell phones. Photographers sit and shoot and try to capture the scene with light and film as I try to capture it with words. The sun is warm on my body, and I feel the mass of the Earth as it pulls me towards itself. Birds fly low across the water, negotiating with the planet by expending energy to briefly fight its grasp. I am fighting ennui and an inescapable knowledge of the passage of time. "I grow old, I grow old..."
The wind blows the grass and its energy is expended, using up a little more. Eight rowers burn their calories to push one boat across the water, using form to keep from sinking to the bottom. Everyone is living a different life; everyone is living theirs. The people are mostly happy; they have friends, jobs, classes, houses, children. They're almost all white or Asian. Down in the city not everyone is happy; a lot of them are poor, drunk, high, addicted, homeless, helpless, essentially alone. Some are white and some are black and some are Asian, Latino, et cetera. The sad ones, the homeless ones, they're the detritus that has fallen to the bottom in the machine that builds economy. Near me four young, white, athletic college men laugh, talk, wrestle. The city is built for them and they have every reason to be happy. The distance makes the city beautiful. I get back on my bike and ride away, expending my calories to build muscle, to move places, to exist in this place. The sun warms my body.
- Posted usings BlogPress from my iPhone
Location:Westlake Ave N,Seattle,United States