Wednesday, 5 November 2008

Threads and tracks

He watched blue silk threads unravelling, like they were the stars of a film showing in the back of his own head. Snags and tangles smoothed out in silent soft focus, in their own time. Savagely held twists and loops turned back on themselves and combined, chaotic, before stretching out into pristine lengths, with no kinks, as if by magic.

Like a beautiful evolving dance, into these threads, came an image of white on white. Odd, at first, to focus on. Hard to make sense of the new movements as the blue turned into blinding light that bounced like suns inside his blinking eyes. Tracks were skiing down pristine snowfields on a sunlit mountain. Just the tracks being made. No skis.