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  • Moog
  • En mode (re)découverte de cet équilibre qui m'est propre. J'aime chanter, le tai chi, lire, écrire, rire...apporter du bien être aux autres et profiter du quotidien.
  • En mode (re)découverte de cet équilibre qui m'est propre. J'aime chanter, le tai chi, lire, écrire, rire...apporter du bien être aux autres et profiter du quotidien.
8 juin 2009 1 08 /06 /juin /2009 19:29
Today I leave home earlier in order to take a train to far north on a no commuter train day. On the pavement in front of the condo entrance, all garbage bags show their content ; a bag ripper was there.

Waiting for my cab, standing on the kerb, a cat looks at me. At first, I thought him the ripper, but surely he could not rip all garbage bags in the street. Maybe he knows whodunit.
 
Garbage all over
Cat won't spill nor eat the beans
early summer strike

After a short trip I arrive to the railway station, receiving a warm welcome from the tramps, between urine smells and stone pillow beds. I slither my way between rafales of landing pigeons till the main gate to the wonderful world of Northfloatingland.

Home for wanderers
a wave for the stay-at-home 
Northfloatingland park

I like to see the would be passengers ballet in the so called lost step hall, as they dance their way to the platform, thrown in a tramping crowd to their train by a last minute announcement., the debutantes audacious moves answering the daily user solid steeple chase. Not a match to Terry Gilliam's Fisher king dance scene (link), but nevertheless...

After years spent in another wonderful floating place, the Saint-Lazare underground spaghetti plate, I do appreciate the simple balance and the shift in color brought by passers-by to those rather dull and anonymous places, where only movement brings identity, the almost musical patterns created by waves of similarly walking passers-by answering the standing traveller and fixed object tonality.

Passers-by movements
Some just standing and waiting
Flowers in the wind

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