The night and the rain saw it coming, anticipating that brief intermission that would cloud over optimistic eyes. It must have happened, even though you convince yourself that you imagined it. Slow motion, depersonalization. Time seemed to stretch like a rubber band for a few milliseconds before snapping back into place.
The silence was dense and you were no longer sure if you were awake. But the wheels were still spinning.
and as he paused in the middle of the road, clutching his chest, you and those phantom limbs steered on, with a glimpse in the rear view mirror, heart still and quiet, as if that slow dance with death was just a passing dream.
Jean Tinguely, Homage to New York, 1960
A kinetic sculpture whose only purpose was to eventually destroy itself.
Was reading Sigizmund Krzhizhanovsky’s Quadraturin when this song started playing. So perfect. Surreal dream musick for a surreal dream scene.