Excerpts in order with images above:
~
S. sleeping hand
Mysteriously, the lift makes an autonomous
daily dawn descent of all floors of the building
stopping, empty, at each. The lift is a daily
aesthetic experience – I yearn for it as I write.
~
C. with apple
At Nollendorfplatz U-Bahn hundreds of
transient fingers have gouged at the blackened
putty surrounding a window on the platform.
These myriad prints cease at the height of
human reach and over time have merged to
form a glutinous, choppy mash. Do some
travellers pass through each day and add to
this protean creation? Does the gesture
become part of some nameless ritual as they
wait for their morning or evening train? Sitting
in the U-Bahn, as I think of these marks,
I become aware of the traces of human bodies
everywhere – worn patches on the floor where
feet have repeatedly rested or shuffled,
threadbare areas on arm rests where fingers
have toyed or elbows rubbed, the grotesque
balding spots on the back of the seats where heads
have pressed and turned. For an instant there
is a poignancy to these persist vestiges left
by human bodies, often collectively, on an
impercipient, benumbed world.
~
Lift (with sellotape), Helmstedterstrasse
Berlin is the most unlikely Atopia, weighed
down as it is by the poisonous lead of its
history, inexorably determined in some many
hearts. But perhaps it is precisely this surfeit
of meaning, the festering wound of its real
events that, paradoxically, makes Berlin open
to Atopia. Its chaos of unresolved narratives,
its sites of unspeakable truths – perhaps Atopia
requires a backdrop such as this.
~
S. eye watching television
In searing August heat we drive past acres of
public housing to the other of Berlin’s two zoos –
the Tierpark. The largest urban green space we
have ever encountered is peppered with the
tiniest bird cages. No more than a few feet
square they boarder the paths like sentry posts.
In one, a perfectly still owl stares stoically
through us. We know he sees us. He knows we
know he sees us. I think of the old lady. “Why is
he in there?” (S). They see us without looking
at us these birds. Out there, we are the wildlife,
free to roam while they observe us from their
urban habitats. In the Tierpark I remember the ice
cream as warm. I remember the stench of the
hippos and the day as perfect.
~