It was another weekend night in the city — streets dancing to jazz music, distant laughter & tinkling of wine glasses. She made her way through the traffic light towards the bar when a car screeched to a sudden halt. She saw her lifeless form lying a feet away. A crowd quickly gathering around, the ER’s siren already sounding in the distance. The man poked out of the window “Watch where you’re going, young lady.” Suddenly the dizzying reality hit her. The car had fortunately stopped inches away.
But her racing mind could not. Living in the city had been everything but boring. The excitement of tasting new experiences, new energies ever so often. A walk down the street & the liveliness could be enough to rejuvenate you. But had she been so busy soaking this excitement, this life around, that she’d become increasingly unaware of the one within?
Just then a bizarre painting loomed into her mind from earlier in the day. It was called the Diagonal Freeway and the painter depicted city life in the form of a hilly San Francisco landscape. The painting shows freeways intersecting & vanishing & yet never meeting (intersecting in different planes). One of the freeways seems to be eroded, the edge shown as steep & high. Looking at the edge, she remembered feeling nauseous, tensed about falling off a cliff. Perhaps the edge was there to denote something precarious, short lived? Much like the…
