Wednesday, April 28, 2004


The hand of the woman held in the door in the subway. I look at the hand waving from behind the closed doors of the subway. Her face from behind the glass as she is trying to break free. I try but the door is hard to pry open. She manages to pull her hand back. The subway leaves. I turn to find myself being starred at by a dozen of strangers.

The concert with R. The cellist who keeps breaking the strings of his bow. Cleaning the invisible threads with rage. I’m thinking of what would happen if he breaks them all. Knowing perfectly well that this is impossible. Hoping against all odds.