a green park

If you dare, sit down on the ground between the corner and the sign below the white, dusty fence with your back to the wall. Cozy, isn't it?

I don't know what time you'll be sitting here. I was here at a time when lots of people were carrying shopping bags. One time many went for a bike ride and one time many car tires rubbed on the asphalt. The tires dipped into every little fury, dotting in the holes and rolling forward powered by little explosions in the cylinder. I actually love driving. Though I spend the majority of my time outside any car. And there, they really annoy me. The humming, stationary cars, the noise that masks all other noises, I get really emotional, it scratches my chill state of mind. SUVs growling mechanicaly at me, with their lights placed right at my eye level. mh.

You're sitting diagonally to a copper beech. How organic and greasy it is. Patronizingly, it lets a bit of greenery grow on it. With its leaves glistening in the sky, it laughs at the aesthetic boundary formed of the marble slabs. Oh, how sublime nature is to us. Today we know how to find paths together with her. Our surroundings still bear witness to another time, where the fear towards nature extended our knowledge of her. The infrastructure bears witness to our fear of nature. Pandora box. Put the lid on and close it. (kichern)

You look at it. Asphalted, they call it. Gray in gray. I'd argue with you whether it's gray or rather blue, the asphalt I mean. In any case, there are lots of small stones. Edged with dried liquid. Square stones, rectangular stones.

Now imagine: these little stones separate, fly in your way, float about the ground, get lost like little pollen in the air. You see how the tree stretches its root into the creek. The scent of the water fills your stomach. Can you see a park in front of you? What does it look like?

Take off your headphones and listen to the stream, knowing that there is still a lot for the two of you to achieve.