Friday, February 20, 2009

The McDonalds' Window Diorama

Discovering a surprise holiday at work is something that isn’t too well received by the part of me that loves the inertia of routine. Disappointed with the sudden jolt in the scheme of things I needed a place to go where I can stay still and get over this breach of continuity (read, sulk). Another not-so-pleasant discovery I made was that McDonald’s was the only place I could do this at 9.30am of a half-holiday. Making a quick promise to myself of not indulging my strenuously suppressed appetite, I ordered only an espresso black, double shot (it was McDonald’s, so I gave up on the idea of asking for a de-caffe after quietly reflecting on the poster of a Big Mac). I carried my morning sulk-accompaniment to the seat facing the window and placed my field of vision comfortably between the stickers of Happy Meals. Show began.
34 lazy yet brisk marches per view. 34 projectiles dragging through a sluggish morning. 34 lives waiting to be intercepted.

Having more time at hands transfigured into stirring the coffee without any reason. A fruit fly momentarily obstructing my scope, cheerful from the draught of precociously ripened late-February grapes. A soiled piece of paper on the mosaic pavement which for some reason I imagined to be the religious pamphlet from a church saying something as clichéd as “God loves ye all”. The lazy yet brisk marches trampling it with their unsure mission. I decided not to watch the big garbage bin to my right because of it’s gloomy shade of green. The shops beyond it had the “open-close” sign dangling with non-certitude. The jig-saw puzzle shaped part of the sky didn’t specifically look of any season. Props strategically cluttered across the landscape. Faces talking with the sound muted. I stared with discomfort at a girl wearing a scratchy looking cardigan. I watched a fruit vendor try to swat at the stubborn fly. I wondered how many of these faces do I or will I know. How many times have I passed them, looking at them but not really looking at them? All of us connected at that connection-fertile junction of the train station, every morning. The coffee was unpalatably cold with all the aimless stirring. I tried to drink it for it was like my ticket to this little museum trip. Through this window, I mused over an infinitesimally tiny fraction of the eternal process of evolution. Like a dorky anthropology student, I decided to buy another ticket. 20 more minutes of human nature for 20 bucks.

art title - Museum, web art gallery
artiste - David Camp
url -

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