attempts at being a blog

I wrote this when I was in Cape Town last year. I don't know how much I like it but I was going through old stuff and thought I'd share.

Power Lines

Begin anywhere. Climb up through the cold steel frames that rise from the dirt, from the grass, from the pavement—glimmering and imposing in the sun. Surge through steady parallel wires—thin and kinked, but sure in their path as they cut through the South African landscape. Soar through a blue sky, uninterrupted except for you, over grassy hills dotted with purple and yellow flowers. Soar over sunken playgrounds rising up from grass, over children swinging high, their stomachs and hearts suspended in the air. Look down as you rush through the sky; see grass that is scattered with shiny bits of broken glass, glimmering amongst tall, uncut blades.

Diverge amongst the wires and find yourself racing in a hundred directions—over the bright, candy colored houses of Bo-Kaap, each street a glossy array of painted dwellings. Race along the water’s edge, following the railroad tracks through sunny, windy, costal towns. Or fly over the vast and empty desert, watching the soil change colors and farmers tend to their cattle as you pass under bright white clouds, low and big in the sky. Pass over flea markets, over vendors selling wooden giraffes and soda can flowers, beaded necklaces and colorful prints. Wind around Table Mountain, shrouded in a wispy blanket of fog. Pass over the single story houses nestled unobtrusively on the side of the mountain in a lush, thriving green. Rush through bustling cities, through financial districts, suburbs, and shopping centers. Pass over taxis swerving through the roads; pass over men at intersections, smiling into car windows at cold faces, at passengers uninterested in their wares. Pass over government buildings, over parliament, over officials, over documents filled with plans, with promises.

Slow down as you make your way over the townships, vast and expansive under a cotton ceiling of clouds. Pass over their patchwork of rusted metal and faded pastels, over houses low and quiet and angry and resigned, growing from the ground, becoming the ground. Pass over horses grazing and stray dogs chasing. Pass over piles of trash and bones, over garments hung and blowing in the wind, meager and unassuming as their colors slowly fade in the sun. Pass over a woman and her child, wide-eyed and slung tight across her back. Pass over school children returning home, their uniforms bright and clean and hopeful.

Surge and pulse over a never-ending landscape, safe in your insulated wires. Find your way across highways and streets, into neighborhoods and homes. Give power to office buildings, tall and looming. Power computers and DVD players. Power flat screen televisions, power X-boxes. Power electric fences. Power cell phones, power kettles. Power hotplates for a family’s one hot meal for the day. Power lights, power heat. Power life.

Begin anywhere—in a night sky, dotted with stars; on a freeway, lit with rows of orange lights. Begin in rolling hills, in flat desert sand, in rich green fields. Begin in city centers, or in small rural towns, in a one-room school house or a prominent university. Begin anywhere and end in the flick of a switch, lighting a room. End in a turn of a dial, starting a stove, or in a push of a button, turning on a radio. Begin anywhere and end in rooms full of laughter and chatter, full of sadness, full of hardship, full of struggle, full of the past, full of hope. Begin anywhere and end everywhere. End in homes, quiet with sleep and the hushed sound of steady breathing, waiting for the morning.