it was a bit of a disappointment this morning when I arrived at the last page of a book I had been reading for the last few days on the train. My thoughts were something like... she is touching the handle of that portfolio with such delicate attention, if the train were not so loud, we could certainly hear it purr. Clearly I was not paying attention to what I was reading. Not a good thing, as what I was reading was again one of the books in which every sentence is like a layer on top of the previous one and so on... so I have been looking at letters, playing with that highlighter in my pocket, but only the punctuation marks would resonate with the sounds of the train and find their little homes in the back of my head. Not very useful.
This is why I like looking at pictures, when on the train I guess. Here we have a thousand words, all completely disorganized, forming what appears to be a familiar impression. I tend to look for the flaws and hints left behind by those who made the images. Look at photographs and try to discover the human factor... It is interesting that writers do not get excited about their typewriters or word processors. Photographers on the other hand are not only divided into particular brands, they sometimes even sign their photographs with not their names but the name of the camera. Machine operators...
Looking at images on the subway and looking at the little flaws that make me hear the voice of the designer saying nobody will notice if I just clone the background here or what if I blur that hair here... but these people are not photographers, they are photoshoppers, editors...
No wonder I can not read on the train, or barely read anywhere else for that matter. I tend to fall into the little spaces opening up between the words, little loopholes in the Os and As... and the Ps as well...
Soon I will be listening to the songs hidden in the sentences of the people speaking to others (i already do that) then probably to the songs hiding in voices speaking to me...
and if all this progresses... I will probably somehow need to find a therapist, on who's sofa I will just take a nap, listening to the sounds hiding in the walls, my own breath, the breath of my sleeping therapist, on the chair near by...
It is sometimes the best thing in the world to pay attention to those things that do not really matter... but at times... now I forgot what I wanted to say...
; )
