Wednesday, January 29, 2014

Day 13

 I admire graffiti  - the sculpted letters, the blaze of colour where it's not supposed to be. I took a photo here this summer when I discovered this path on one of my summer night walks. I took another today, and after I pocketed my phone I walked by dirt and salt crusted scarves and blankets, and a human-sized gap in the fence that anyone could pass through. You could pick your way down the ravine and go to the river. 

I think anyone who used this space headed for the warmth of the shelters in the city long ago. In the spring they'll be back with their sleeping bags, going down to the river, watching graffiti artists decorate, building bonfires and sitting on discarded lawn furniture, observing middle class women taking pictures of their space. 

Wouldn't it be odd if they took a pic right back at me? Middle class woman walking in her down parka loaded down with shopping bags from the mall pulling out her cellphone and taking a pic of what amuses her...there should be a gallery for photos like that. It feels uncomfortable to be the observed. 
We feel far more comfortable, far more used to doing the observing. 

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