With a light rain falling and thunderheads building in the east, miles-high clouds blowing in off the Gulf, he collected the pieces for a new sculpture. Walking through streets bathed in a greenish, all-pervading light, he gathered them one by one from gutters and traintracks, from torn asphalt and cracked cement, bits of metal flung out of work vans as they bumped along over the tracks, rusted relics forgotten and abandoned, neither missed nor pined for. Sliver, nail, and washer found new homes his rear pocket, jangling softly with each step, each one informing him of the greater configuration of the overall piece, of its outline, shape, and composition. After much searching and with dark clouds grumbling loudly overhead, he found the stick he had been looking for, but only after he truly stopped looking for it and finally just let it find him. Now the piece lies waiting, potent and brooding, a raw little thing but something he can be proud of, a manifestation of common progress, trash recycled, recombined, and remade anew.
mentiri factorem fecit – 場黑麥
No comments:
Post a Comment