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The apartment buildings here stretch for miles and miles--every one the same carbon copy of some housing development from the projects. I imagine them all falling down one after another. All you'd need is one push for the first one to go and the rest to follow like dominos. The windows have no shades, and as I look up through the dark, I see every apartment lit by the same fluorescent lighting, the same clotheslines in everybody's windows. I see people walking around up there. I'm looking at a giant fish tank--seeing how the fish live and where they will swim to next. My German internet radio station plays fat jazz through my computer monitor, Frank Sinatra, as I sit in a PC cafe in South Korea. It's a melange of notes, colors, and countries. It's me now. I'm thrilled to be living the foreign experience. I forgot what it was like. This go has some greater advantages. For one, I have the freedom to spend time and money downtown and go to jazz clubs at night. I get to hang out with Celeste and read the Brothers Karamazov with duvet slippers and sip my Pero au lait. I wonder who is looking into my back window at my fluorescent light, wondering where I will swim to next. Maybe we are not all the same. Who's Looking in?- Scottro [2002-11-21]
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Last five letters Gathering [2009-09-04] ?2002, Scott & Celeste. |