DESPERATE PROJECTION

1

I will look like you
I will look as if I were you
I will look at things as if you had lent me your eyes
But I will also look for you, the man
I will be looking like you looking at things looking for you
Please have compassion
I’ll be a desperate child who lost her mother’s breast and her father’s footprints
I‘ll be a desperate woman who let y/
I‘ll be a desperate woman who looks at b/
I‘ll be a wall I could not climb

--

street whisper

I was a fertile valley


I was surrounded by a natural stone wall that poured fresh water down my navel

and I was protected by a thick trees gate that kept me sea free

I was caressed by dark hands, I was wet with red fruit juice,

I was combed by mild slow airs, full of laughter, and nasal humming

I was pressed against by nude broad backs
that tired rested on me

And sweet feet that smelled like their mothers' tender milk


All of a sudden,
I was stamped on by beautiful beasts and men in shining armours,

and I was wet with sweet and bitter blood,

and my fertile skin was gradually covered
by buildings and holy places other than myself


Now
I am delimited by squares and straight lines

Now
my ancient nerves are drilled by strange mechanic roarings

Now
I'm scratched down
by youths in search of roots


I am right behind you


I am Santiago de Chile.










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city

A city is a mixture of spaces, buildings, and connections.

Some streets are older than others. You can notice because of the gray paving stones. They are being taken out because of modernity. Big buses need bigger streets, and they also need surfaces on which their wheels don't slip, you know?

Aw, and some old houses are being demolished because, if you're walking around through some fresh morning,

or under a renewing afternoon rain,

they may fall down with all the weight of mud and straw and secret stories right on our hats and backs...



There's an old city behind those mirror-windows that give your image back to you. 'I don't need you - you'd better stay with yourself' the glass whispers, while hiding the secret life of anonymous people that drink tea, or make beds, or watch TV or something

looking for connections that root us here

here



as if here were a place to really be











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Scores to be read

Yes. Like a sonagraph's picture of the great masterpieces, a city has its ups and downs. Sometimes the pictures of music turn out to be regular - like cities must have been right in the beginnings, built up in a human, low fashion scale - and sometimes scandalous, with its major heights up in the chiming bells of the central church, or in the shape of a mirror-windowed skyscrapper.


On the other hand, low curves in music are always like whispering rivers that run down across the very centre. Venice... mmmm. Or Mapocho and its hundreds of misery stories, in a cruder aspect. Low intensity moments may also be compared to streets, with big or little crowds coming and going. Leaving...

Walking...

Thinking
what would the best tune for Santiago be

from the high-towered to the low and intimate aspects of the city's heft.








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