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every other man

The light outside the main entrance to our building has gone out again. The heavy metal door swings wide as I pull a hat down over my ears. In the darkness there are maybe twenty teenagers standing still. My boot scrapes across the ground, slowing down. Their hands in pockets, shoulders hunched, I look for a space to pass between them. A voice appears, saying hello in English, with an obvious accent. I am all instinct, sayingpivyet as I pass, not looking back, wondering who said this. There was a boy that was an extra in Blackbetty that lives in our building, but he is too young, too short for it to have been him.

I look back, navigating the puddles in the street. It does not make any sense.

N is with V, making their way home. I meet them, pulling V into my arms as she chatters about her day, about dry leaves and princesses, about her grandmother's apartment and what she ate there. We are going back home, and I try to explain the odd collection that stands outside. As we pass th…

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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