___ ___ ___ ____ __ _____ __ ____ __ / __\ /__ \ /__ \ / __// | / /__ \ / / / / |/ | / /_/ // \ \// \ \/ /_ / /||/ // \ \/ / / / /| /| | / __ // / // / / __// / | // / / / / / / |/ | | / / / //___/ //___/ / /__/ / / //___/ / /__/ / / | | /_/ /_/______/______/____/_/ /_/______/\_____/_/ TEXTFILES ---------------------------------------------------------------------- #96 : Tuesday 8 July 2003 : http://addendumtextfiles.org ---------------------------------------------------------------------- Passing By, by Oregano ŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻ You can't see it from the road; it is a fading bright blue and 50 feet tall but you cannot see it. Don't blame camaflauge or a tree, this is in plain sight, not hidden by anything, but you still cannot see it since it is too much a part of the background of life -- too much of what the eye ignores, the immaterial, the never relevant. We stopped at the foot of this water tower and the heat was baking us. Could the water up there be boiling? We thought that. And then someone said it out loud and we saw it was silly but no one said it was silly, just something about 212 degrees Fahrenheit. I went off and took a pee behind some bushes. I came back and people were sitting on this large concrete footing at the bottom of the water tower and we drank from our bottles of water that we all had forgotten to bring. But one person remembered and remebered that we would all forget and so he brought enough water bottles for everyone. The water was warm and had a stale plastic taste to it. The ground around was dry. Tall brown grasses and so many different types of plant. Who knows what they all are? But I trampled down some and took a seat too and this whole time, and I swear this is true, we no longer noticed the water tower. It disappeared for us, just as gone as for the people on the road who drive by every day of their lives and cannot see it. I can remember the sounds, I can hear the crickets or grasshoppers or whatever it is that buzzes far away -- far enough that the wind distorts it, with the sound wavering in the humid air. What we talked about can no longer matter, old worries that never had meaning, it was about nothing, all I recall is that first was talk of the water tower and then the water tower disappeared. Artists can see it. Here is one funny thing then I have to get the group moving again. R. Crumb draws comic books, these tend to be set in America, but he lives in France, and so he hires people to go out and take photos of things that don't exist: telphone wires, TV antennas, street lights. Things that we don't see but would have an unease if they did not fill in the rest of the pictures. Crumb adds them to his comic books so readers can comfortably ignore them. But then we all get up, we had a lot more walking to do and we got up and moved on and the water tower that never existed now had no chance to live. At least until yesterday. I was on a bus and was bored and tired and looking out the window at so much in the world and there was a water tower behind a church and then ths whole scene from my past came back to me, and finally I could see it. And now you see it too. ---------------------------------------------------------------------- Disclamer - This content of this issue of Addendum is copyrighted the respective author whose name or handle should appear at the top of this page. You may copy this textfile but please keep it in its original configuration. Please note that the views expressed in this piece do not necessarily reflect the views of addendum as a whole. Thankyou. ----------------------------------------------------------------------