You know me, I work in a country place called Ensenada. But, back in the city, I notice the characteristic sounds in the background. The soundtrack is familiar, the same as it ever was: the deep, low voice of the foghorns, calling across the ocean, the bright, merry clang of the cable car's bells, the rough, distinctive cries of the wild parrots passing, their bright wings clattering and flashing in the sun. These sounds were as familiar to me as my family's voices when I lived with them, and like their voices, made me feel happy and at home. Now, they seem melancholy and a little foreign, the soundtrack to someone else's life.
martes, 31 de octubre de 2006
lunes, 30 de octubre de 2006
Half light, low light, dull light, no light, what the fuck? Darkness isnt the scary part, its being lost, wandering, unsure and alone save for the sound of your own breath that brings fear.
Its feeling the dark press down like a smothering blanket, like some sort of twisted peace that will drown you in its pity. Like youre a fire that needs to be put out under a load of dust and sand, trickling down and through until it swallows every part of your soul, niggling in the cracks and deadening the light.
Who is afraid of the dark?