Offscapes - Beyond the Limits of Urban Landscape

74 Beyond the limits of urban landscape

OCTOBER (KETHEB MERIRI) City erotopographies (on Hiawatha aria)

S cene 1: W hat is the shape of the city ? Emblem: As Spring comes and goes, thus the terrain was drawn

while, like a trapper on the Ontario, going back through the north-east suburbs towards the via Emilia searching shelter from the ocean storm in the evenings of the lowlands (E) (G#) (A) The space between the river and the hills, (E) (G#) (A) The frightenend limen clutching the hillside, (E) (G#) (A) The never-ending shallows where the void traces increasingly uncertain coastal lines, draws fossil dunes drifting away, remote like a yellow and sandy, distant African weather front, like a simoon from faraway, lost at the end of time and parallels. The setting sun passing through it in a cobweb of electrical broken chords in an alas ! of cold off-key metals: margin blending into the marshy night (E) (G#) (A) under the cold signs of the Ursa .

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à la CCCP

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Ad lib.

its rims protected by tall cliffs against the icy polar winds.

the lost noise of racing lorries or a far-off screeching of rails, the deep breath of the urban complex asleep, the muttering of ganglions of vital knots, limbic system, the oniric chatter of the dead intertwined with conscious sleep (it’s the fluttering of eyelashes, the r.e.m.) (jerking like a reptile or a dog’s nightmare).

the jungle of June at the heart of the year and of the hot stream of blood explodes with a full sun within the days of panic, at the end of the month of Ophiucus. The fresh night air welcomes all children left to themselves, isolation of things consumed, orphanity of abandoned cities: you can feel remote tangential forces through their silent body unknown, incessant waves pass in front of you in the immensity of the plain: heavy vehicles fleeing

Here begins the aeolian landscape of sandy canyons, life in a northern town where rivers of lead flow, never-ending boreal plains, patterned ground and networks.

this is the golden age

Springtime has been a foreboding of fresh limitless meadows in the midst of a continent to come,