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untitled. selangor, march 2010.

 

 

Moving along in a traffic jam in the dusk the car is like a log in a jammed river overflooded, nothing can move without jostling, some squeezing, bumping and grinding as the objects press pass each other in perambulation that seems not that their own, as if they are dragged by that invisible river's undercurrent. Sitting in these vehicles the passengers do not feel like they are driving anymore, the road is not their motorway on which they thrust themselves pass at speed; instead they are prisoners in a prison they cannot abandon and walk away from – pitching and yawing forward at a crawl in the dark amidst the high cliffs of lights – they can stare at minute features of each mile marker and scoring of the guardrail, the broken tarmac patterns and each lamp post with it spray painted number in the sodium glow. They study the glow of the mobile phone screen … deciding whom to call ... conversations otherwise lost. They study the screen of their garmin, running their minds on glow of streets and their named locations they should have already reached. Their destination is in the future, the distance, the destiny arrested.

 

....... with humble apologies to jack k. & 大道

Done