October 19, 2003


When you live in a place you become immune to the labyrinthine offerings that comprise it's whole. In short, you become blind. It is a liberation to set forth on foot and just see all the mysteries that something ordinary is made of. Nothing is ordinary unless you relegate it to being so by subtracting it's power to affect you from your existence. Be moved.

There is a street in this city lined with wellness clinics. It is accessed at one end by a push button portal to either fast walk or just walk. At the other end it spills out under a great fan over the edge of the river valley. Crumbled brick houses stand defiantly between the clinics and highrises and overall there is an air of agelessness. Nothing takes on this street for long enough to change it. It is an amalgamation of ideas from every decade, all settled into the haze of an autumn afternoon. This street couldn't exist if it were monitored by any sort of progressive community board. It is precisely because all things were attempted and ultimately abandoned just after conception that this place exists at all. It's not real. It's a tantalizing vision of what was and what was intended, excavated from the corners of consciousness. At the other side of each portal is a brewery and a river, in turn.

Mortality has a way of dimming our sight. The exotic isn't meant only to be traveled to. It is meant to be created. Anything you know isn't the whole truth. There is more. There is expansion. There is the surreal.

Abrase los ojos.

.... open your eyes.....

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