Sparrow Squabbles


A NICE BUCKET by David Rose

The di Chirico calm of Urbia, as out-measured by working men who eff, cuss, drink tea and ogle legs, those men who build ramps or speed bumps as sleeping policemen for calming traffic if not calming sparrow squabbles, a gritty hands-on, even toes-off, ritual that provides, via the amalgam of time and asphalt, a glimpse of something tantalisingly intrinsic to existence itself, something that only fiction truths can supply? A ramp to slow our progress, thus to allow us to make each of our paces ever half of the one before by dint of Zeno’s Paradox. One man seems more sensitive than the others and buys his own nice bucket to perfect the task in hand, however that task may be questioned as to usefulness or sense. An installation of found art crystallised in the eternally sacred moment by someone who cares where the body-mind reaches its balance of spiritual aesthetics and hardcore utility.

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