Année #1, La Maison populaire

La Maison du parc du 02/10/2021 au 02/10/2022


mercredi 23 février 2022 à 07 h 43

« It’s a clear mor­ning. The sky is limpid, glo­wing, get­ting brigh­ter rapidly. To start, both win­dows are foggy, I touch my hand against the glass hoping to rub a clear patch, but the conden­sa­tion is on the out­side. I feel slightly frus­tra­ted as the exte­rior humi­dity is lost, I am in a fuzzy space.
Then the sun starts to rise. An orange curve pushing up behind a buil­ding. Sharply, des­pite the fuzzy window. It is held behind the basket-like struc­tu­res of the floo­dlights, a basket of fire, like an Olympic torch. The conden­sa­tion disap­pears as the sun’s rays touch the glass. The view crys­tal­li­zes. Silhouettes of buil­dings, plumes of smoke rising ver­ti­cally, dozens, even hun­dreds. The city brea­thes, exha­les. The sun goes from orange, to yellow, to pale yellow. I could only look straight at it for a few moments, when it appea­red as an orange disc.
Facing west.
It is still foggy, but the sun’s rays have trans­for­med the pre­viously grey city and park. The colors have become rich and deep, greens, reds, silver, gold, chest­nut, brick, black, char­coal. I watch two mag­pies sit­ting high in the bran­ches of a tree. So high that the bran­ches are more like twigs. The grass of the park below has a tufty tex­ture that is imper­cep­ti­ble at ground level, as if one can see the thou­sands of feet that pass across it, sha­ping it. The silver birch trees glow, bun­ches of silver ropes and threads. How nice to be here at the end of winter, before the leaves are out.
I watch a woman play with her dog. Throwing a tennis ball. The dog bounds with joy. She teases him, pre­ten­ding to throw in one direc­tion, then sud­denly chan­ging her mind. They seem com­pli­cit, utterly happy in each other’s com­pany.
What a magi­cal pri­vi­lege to have had this moment up here, on this beau­ti­ful mor­ning. »


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