My favorite artist passed away this February, and the rain on my boots feel a little lighter each morning. Regularly waking at 8 am is a bit of a startling process, but I’m learning to adjust (and hopefully my body does the same).
Walking in this month’s Gestalt walk feels moist and foggy. I don’t have an umbrella, so the puddles soaking beneath my feet feel twice as real. Qunni loved drawing skies, yellow stars and blue rain. So the air feels twice as moist, my reflections are twice as bright, and yellow-green streetlights stretch and dance within their enclosed puddles.
Our gestalt walk reminds me of downtown Chicago and the infinite saturated puddles, lakes, dips and corners I was unable to count. Graffiti splays itself across nearly every building, and my ears vrum under the shaking bars of an overhead CTA train. My school was just across every transportation line, easy to access my 45 minute train ride home.
The ease fades whenever I hop on the Dayton flyer, and while transportation is rarely a problem at university (I walk on foot), I do miss the abundant access to a train nearby.
nemo 