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molecules and potholes

There is a rift between daily life, and the news that trickles across. In our little bubble, this quiet neighborhood, the price of a bouquet of roses does not change. The eggs are painted in shit and feathers, but taste the same. The little fresh market works on the weekends again, now that the weather is not terrible. Here, they sell overpriced red onions, stalks of broccoli, maybe some green basil if we are lucky.  The potholes sit  half-full with murky water. New buildings grow slowly as construction workers stare into the horizon on cigarette breaks. None of this changes, not a molecule.

But the rest of world is upside-down. Wild laws are passed. Prime ministers become dictators. Bombs are dropped here and there, like rainbow sprinkles on a doughnut - the more the better. Great decisions are made over dessert now, fueled by whim.

Being an expat means more than living far from home. There are many distances to bridge each day, and in times like this I want to throw my hands wild i…

окна (window)



Comments

Mely said…
For a moment, I was there.
You are quite an artist, no doubt about it!
Love the music, too.

Happy Valentine!!
Rabbit blogger said…
thanks for all of the comments. this took a number of days to produce, as always - a labor of love fit between the daily struggles. a friend and reader asked me if i would ever make a filmic version of the blog, and this is what came out. i may post the parallel story and text for this one, next monday.
1:12 - 1:28 bit is totally awesome, my favorite! Especially the lady that appears - she looks somehow broken to me, really cool.
S Sommer said…
Marco, did you compose and play the music? I love it all. See some new aspect with each viewing. Fascinating.

SS
Rabbit blogger said…
yes, i did write the music - the rule in my studio is to do everything in 1 take. there is a ghost of a harmonica i play in there as well. got to try to keep things restrained....

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