Icarus |
Slide me
If it were Icarus who was flying over this plain, he would see the pine forests and would admire their denseness. He would also wonder about the multicoloured fields.·
These well drawn squares of green, yellow and ochre, and would admire the neatness of their borders. Icarus would see scattered houses in the fields. Small cubic houses with red roofs. And he would admire the straightness of the walls.
If it were Icarus, who was flying over this plain, he would see black roads and grey ones. Roads crossed by no human being, and fields populated by white cows with black stains. Icarus would certainly admire the corpulence of these cows. He would see men and women, but rarely walking. He would rather see them getting out of coloured cubes. Some sort of horseless tanks, pushed forward by an obscure force. Icarus would probably admire the bright colours of these tanks.
During his flight, he would spread his wings towards the west, thus turning his back to the sun, to see the landscape more easily. By doing so, he would see a surface with unimaginable shades, varying from black to pink, forming a strange composition. He would wonder what that could be, then would see a child, perhaps a little boy, throwing pebbles, aiming at a particular point in the middle of this surface. The pebbles would disappear, producing concentric waves. From that, Icarus would deduct that the surface is that of a liquid, probably a pond. He would wonder what could produce those strange shades and would name it the thousand-shade-pond.
If it were Icarus, who was flying over this plain, he would see huge white letters, drawn on the ground, in the middle of an empty parcel. He would try to decipher the word, but without success, since Icarus is dyslexic. Disappointed by his failure, Icarus would turn his head to right. He would hear a muffled noise and see camps surrounded by wire fencing. He would first see the enormous grey towers, hoisted in the middle of the camp. Then only, would he notice the white smoke slipping out from the top of the towers and forming nice clouds in the sky. He would get closer in order to go through one of them and realise that the clouds are not that nice, once you are inside them.
But I’m not Icarus and what I see, is but an ordinary landscape. A plain covered by fields, populated by enormous cows crammed with hormones, crossed by roads full of cars produced on assembly lines, in polluting factories.
I go for a last round. I see the white letters of the runway from a distance and I announce… Charly-Juliette… last bend… final on 2.
I know that my shoes would leave dust marks on the immaculate tarmac of the runway, that I would sit behind the steering wheel of my car, quietly waiting for me. That I would get going without delay, to avoid the weekend’s traffic jam. That when entering the building I would empty the mailbox, which only gets filled by the ad leaflets and that I would take the lift to go up to my flat, out of laziness.
I know that once in my flat, I would hurry up to heat a frozen pizza that I have planned to have for supper and that I would immediately sit down in front of the TV not to miss the beginning of my favourite Sunday night’s show.
These well drawn squares of green, yellow and ochre, and would admire the neatness of their borders. Icarus would see scattered houses in the fields. Small cubic houses with red roofs. And he would admire the straightness of the walls.
If it were Icarus, who was flying over this plain, he would see black roads and grey ones. Roads crossed by no human being, and fields populated by white cows with black stains. Icarus would certainly admire the corpulence of these cows. He would see men and women, but rarely walking. He would rather see them getting out of coloured cubes. Some sort of horseless tanks, pushed forward by an obscure force. Icarus would probably admire the bright colours of these tanks.
During his flight, he would spread his wings towards the west, thus turning his back to the sun, to see the landscape more easily. By doing so, he would see a surface with unimaginable shades, varying from black to pink, forming a strange composition. He would wonder what that could be, then would see a child, perhaps a little boy, throwing pebbles, aiming at a particular point in the middle of this surface. The pebbles would disappear, producing concentric waves. From that, Icarus would deduct that the surface is that of a liquid, probably a pond. He would wonder what could produce those strange shades and would name it the thousand-shade-pond.
If it were Icarus, who was flying over this plain, he would see huge white letters, drawn on the ground, in the middle of an empty parcel. He would try to decipher the word, but without success, since Icarus is dyslexic. Disappointed by his failure, Icarus would turn his head to right. He would hear a muffled noise and see camps surrounded by wire fencing. He would first see the enormous grey towers, hoisted in the middle of the camp. Then only, would he notice the white smoke slipping out from the top of the towers and forming nice clouds in the sky. He would get closer in order to go through one of them and realise that the clouds are not that nice, once you are inside them.
But I’m not Icarus and what I see, is but an ordinary landscape. A plain covered by fields, populated by enormous cows crammed with hormones, crossed by roads full of cars produced on assembly lines, in polluting factories.
I go for a last round. I see the white letters of the runway from a distance and I announce… Charly-Juliette… last bend… final on 2.
I know that my shoes would leave dust marks on the immaculate tarmac of the runway, that I would sit behind the steering wheel of my car, quietly waiting for me. That I would get going without delay, to avoid the weekend’s traffic jam. That when entering the building I would empty the mailbox, which only gets filled by the ad leaflets and that I would take the lift to go up to my flat, out of laziness.
I know that once in my flat, I would hurry up to heat a frozen pizza that I have planned to have for supper and that I would immediately sit down in front of the TV not to miss the beginning of my favourite Sunday night’s show.
