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18/11/2020
M a l l a r d D u c k
Behind me is ground zero, where once stood a huge heap of blasted granite rock. There I was crawling among them, looking down at the top of the oil rig. Now it's all sky above flattened ground.
Too soon this space will once again be replaced - displaced - and filled with construction machines and buildings. I feel glad this body occupied that space for a moment. That this body knows it, and my soft as rock being body could share that temporality in the skyspace. Now it's expanded nowhere.
The bay of water between this body and the next site beyond cleared into gravel piles and tracks for vehicles piling up, replacing and displacing more shredded land.
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Photos: May 2019, a memory - Now it's all sky
I arrive beneath the wispy clouds adorning the blue sky.
This body, the bay water, and my partner the mallard duck. Floating ease-fully, buoyantly and solo but never alone. The bright emerald head of the mallard duck, meeting me through the water.
I slowly roll down the pier to the edge.
This body sits upright, bones connecting to the sway of the water rippling through my whole spine, meeting the duck being. Water connecting us. Curiosity. Now we exist together and share this here. I wonder how the duck feels about the changes
around here?
Being seen and seeing this flurry of constant construction and building ups?
Photo: November 2020
A sense of suspension, of waiting for who knows what exactly because the peace, the solace that could be once taken for granted is a fading memory replaced by this suspension.
Just waiting for what is coming. Do we even really know what that is?
Building up, up, always growth, always up, never fully arriving .... until maybe eventually falling.
I land here with duck in water. I say "we" when I don't really know anything of what the duck is
thinking/ being / feeling.
But here I am, learning from duck, imagining or dreaming as duck.
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