Friday, November 16, 2007

At parque Chacabuco

Thick with the mass of bodies. It is impossible to tell a tale without drawing conculusions: snipping off everything that is hypothetical until the body of it is either compressed until it breaks or is spread too thin.

The day is an opened vault, spilled sunlight, sidewalks, pool glimmer. Everybody is revolved around a park bench.

There is a woman with a stroller and two children. She has to lift the stroller over each step of this park that is built of stairways. She wants to be back home, too many sun-drenched tiles, she can´t see straight. Then she is hit by a soccer ball! She collapses to the pavement, even though it barely hit her. She is laughing now. The child who hit her is laughing too.

A swimming pool that is empty, children are playing baseball in it, or is it hockey?

A tree with graphiti on it.

A running track that is full of people, one man is running with street clothes.

A group of teenagers smoking joints under a tree.

Dogs chasing each-other.

Everything is moving and i cannot sit still: a wind rushed pick and grab. These instants I inhale briefly, as if there were too much air, I am having trouble breathing. A clock-tower´s hands are motionless at 8:28.

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