The workday closes and the streets fill with a metallic pulse. Swerving, shifting, looking, with their destinations known, eagerness shows. One-by-one, they each pour off quickly, smoothly like cool water into ice cube trays, staying there until they are popped out by some other force. For others, their days are seamless, with no endpoint steering them in one direction or the other. Cruising, steadily gliding, and playfully dodging sun beams, they find their beat and float in the moment. Hair flutters like a loose scarf in the carefree wind. No pouring, no freezing, no popping, just being. Blissful.
I'm still on my Bauby kick. If for nothing else, the movie is worth watching for the very scene pictured above. As Bauby fondly recalls a cherished memory, one in which he was once free from the state he now finds himself, the camera locks onto the back of his lover's head, her light brown hair dances on intimately in the breeze in a moment that lingers pleasantly. It's peaceful, comforting and exhilarating; you become caught in it yourself and find a smile has washed over your face at its close: you're delighted by your own cheery thoughts and for Bauby, who is able to recall such a moment in his life even in the damnedest of positions. Although unable to leave his body, Bauby never lost his sense of imagination. Something I find incredibly endearing.