Late afternoon we walked out of the Museum of Contemporary Art of Buenos Aires, a streak of brilliant sky blue mounted behind the cathedral of what was once the ultra-bouge part of town, San Telmo. The deep pastel grabbed me for a moment, pulling me into a flash of the future that lay ahead patiently for me. Pictures can't relay the true vivid color of the sky, there's something missing in the photo, something missing in my words, and if only closing your eyes and seeing the striking blue grab hold of your soul could let you feel that instance of capture.
I was held hostage in its grips, hoping only that my lunch of cheap, chargrilled, delicious grass-fed filet would anchor my human's body to the earth. With the caffeine coursing through my bloodstream to waken me from post-lunch itis, I dropped my head into a stream of thought that never connected with my contemporaneous being.
The wall-painted current exhibition was a jumbled representation of the day's feelings. A mix of hopeful joy and depressed possibilities, with all the fire and gusto of that which has fled the depths of a fire pit of hate and torture into the light of the moon, wandering about in search of what the experience meant.
And so I put some words to these feelings. Something that cannot express what it is I'm feeling since it is beyond me where my body and mind is yearning to be at...
破樓簷下圖像活
橫影食光扉門沒
風靜穹空睇遠方
鐵橋蓋擋途仍濶
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