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somewhere over the rainbow (and other stories)

  Exactly two years ago I found myself flying through a corner of a rainbow, and landed in Oaxaca, Mexico. It was the last film festival I traveled to, a brutal and sweet experience in the harshest of realities, trying to wrap my arms around the slipperiest industry and failing magnificently. Surrounded by fresh faces and eager eyes I ran from the rooms and into the street time and again, wandering off with the camera in my bag as a companion. I took pictures of a blind man that sang on the same corner every day, of wedding parades, of an old woman waiting to see the dentist.  Literally somewhere over the rainbow, I met the ugliest answers to questions I had been dragging my feet towards for years. Cramming the most delicious food into my mouth, joking at the nightly rooftop cocktail parties, grinning like the Cheshire Cat it was all coming to an end. Actually, it had ended before it even started though - and on the plane back to New York and finally Moscow the bone-crunching ...
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Beyond Avenue C (paper tigers)

 


This time it is way east of Avenue C, that dream again. The familiar neighborhood, and an apartment that is mine but I have never actually been there. Beyond the landmarks, a new edge of the city reveals itself. There are giant trees, grassy lawns, a series of inlets reflecting the puffiest clouds. It has been here all along but I never saw it. I never went this far. My heart skips a beat, more ashamed than anything else. It is beautiful, and unknown. 

Within the dream, I know I am dreaming. The shame is a paper tiger but all the same it is delicious to walk those old streets, even if I know it is not true. It seems I am working on a film here, or at least that is what I tell everyone. I meet people with bright faces, smoking cigarettes and eating well as they smile and nod and then run off to somewhere important. I am jetlagged, trying to stay up past 8 at night as my face stretches into yawns. My shirt has a fresh stain on it. It is all so real. I am hungry, and want to order Chinese takeout from Mee Fun on 1st and 12th, or is it 13th. I saw Ginsberg there once, shovelling food into his face his lips smacking like a giant frog. 

I walk back along the park that is not there in real life, but here in front of me. Insects are buzzing. The leaves move slowly. The water is rising, maybe something to do with the tide. The air almost smells salty. My feet are wet, as the pavement becomes the beach as the water races with nowhere to stop it. 


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