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The ebb and flow of pedestrians made Sascha seasick. Schools of cars passed
down the road, staring at the throng. No bird is as free as me, she mused. With ruddy hand she cleared her eyes.
In the distance construction continued, but the creation only added to the dead weight pulling on her heart. Never
before had Sascha seen so much death.
Nothing will grow there for generations, she observed, and the thousand thousand consumers who venture there won't
find the peace they crave. Reading the signs, billboards and advertising posters strung piecemeal throughout the
landscape, Sascha was reminded of Hamlet's warning to Ophelia, "Believe none of us, all are knaves here. Get
thee to a nunnery."
But Sascha was there to record, so she aimed her camera and shot all she saw. The old, toothless bum who had told
her about the good old days. CLICK. Those businessmen with their animatronic glow. CLICK. The young woman with
two half-starved children and dead eyes. CLICK. Those college kids out to conquer the world. Visionaries. CLICK.
Sascha wondered why anyone was in such a hurry to get to places where they'd be lied to and manipulated. They needed
to slow down and take a look at themselves, she ruminated. Consumerism is cancer to the soul, like a black hole
it threatens all existence. If this is progress, what's the goal?
In the alley, Sascha counted the names of the dead. A gang's burial ground. The dead were honored by having their
names X'd out. HOUNDOG, PUG, CHARLIE H, the list continued down the block. Sascha knew something had to be done
about all this.
The red light soothed Sascha's troubled soul. Under deft fingertips, the film was transferred onto its large, poster-board
backing. The radio guided Sascha's humming, but could not dim her focus. After hanging the pictures to dry, Sascha
left the darkroom and stared through the windows at the night sky. A large sign across the street blared, JESUS
SAVES. Sascha turned to scan her small room. The old couch scented the room with fresh mold and something scurried
in the far corner. Clothing littered the area. On the lone shelf, all of Sascha's portfolio works sat: pristine
in the wreckage.
Sascha checked her supplies. Beside her bed (in the next room), the wallpaper glue lay stacked. The drop cloths
made for sheets, and the jumpsuit bore witness. Sascha, drowsy, went to sleep. She slept until late the next afternoon. |
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by bCentral
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