Between selfies and other rituals

It is late afternoon, I walk from here to there, in silence and with the rectangle that swallows light at hand.

I warm up my neurons with that of aesthetics, the instant, the trace and transcendence.

I make photographic notes of a diversity of forms of encounter and bond: the one in solitary reflection, eyes closed, perched on the grass squeezing dreams. Also couples that promise to sail years together under a tree that sheds shadows. Fiery bodies jumping, running, wiggling in circus acts: humans and dogs too. Children too. Grandparents in mountain costumes, cane in hand, dark hat on their heads. The group meal, be it the European crepe or the more native dish, on a table or on a textile mandala. There is no lack of those who look up to the clouds following floating duos that glide through the air in another placid wandering. Sometimes on bicycle wheels or even on that skateboard they now call scooter. The noise is scarce, except for some yellow motorcycle that in the distance shines in a swift thunder.

Meanwhile everything about those dwellers, or almost everything, is left for the memory in the flash of a selfie that treasures faces, perhaps to simulate to others how happy I am, or at least, for just a volatile moment, that's how it feels.

It's Saturday and I'm in the park where there is always room for everything. More doubts than certainties ...