“What was the first thing you noticed?”
It’s very green!
“Well of course it is.”
“And you have experience with the seasons?”
“How do you visualize the seasons?”
Well, I’m standing on the tail edge of the falling rust
Right at that point where the sky smears into grey
I’m leaning forward
And the silver musical winds only just nip my nose but I can’t quite reach their chill just yet
Behind me in the west the sun is setting much sooner than expected, pulling memories down with it
A faint warm ray of honey gold touches the back of my neck, blurring with that first explosion of rustic swirls
Ahead, beyond the silver musical winds I catch glimpse of a sunrise revealing bright green and bursts of pink, purple and yellow. If I keep leaning I can just make out the point where the yellow transforms into another blanket of honey gold.
So my future lies in the east and my past in the west
But if I keep walking forward on this globe, as I must,
Through the rust into the smears of grey right into the sunrise, over the fresh green fields into the honey gold of the west
Then I arrive…
“Back in the past?”
“How do you visualize time?”
Well, there’s a house behind me. I can’t quite make out its outline, but if you asked I could recite for hours the ghostly memories I still see sprinting through it’s garden.
And here where I am standing now, there’s this burst of bright energy. It’s something about the city. Something about the speeding trams and winding cobblestone streets. They wrap and cocoon around me as I sink into this spirit. Something about the short glimpses of stories as they rush on by, that fills me with a sort of electricity that I don’t want to let go.
Well yes, that’s the overdose speaking.
You’ve overdosed on this city’s spirit.
But my eyes are open now.
I never said it was wrong.
So it’s good to overdose?
I never said that either.
Can I overdose when I return to where I came from?
That all depends on you.
Photograph by Kristen Krak