And speaking of John Keats and things writ in, or on, water, I
discovered an Italian “street artist” named
Guildor who cuts letters out of foam and arranges them into words and phrases
containing vaguely uplifting sentiments (in Italian), phrases like “Think
thoughtless,” “Love, let the rest flow,” or “Happiness happens.” At least that’s how they were translated by
the New Yorker. He then ties the letters
together using nylon cord and floats them on the surface of Italian rivers; I’m
not honestly sure which rivers to be honest.
This reminds me of a
time I went walking by the canal in Sheffield a few years back. Growing up in Sheffield I never even knew
there was a canal, but now that the heavy industry has died in Sheffield, many
of the remaining industrial relics have been cleaned up, turned into heritage,
and made accessible as a walking route.
I was there by the
Sheffield canal one Sunday afternoon with a companion, and we were walking on
the towpath and suddenly we saw a big foam letter floating along the canal
towards us. It was the letter Y.
Now, my pal, a man of spiritual
inclination and yearning, suggested that the universe was sending us a message,
encouraging us to consider the big questions: Why? Why indeed? Why anything?
I, being less that way inclined was reminded of the old Simpsons episode,
you know the one with Ringo Starr, in which Marge becomes a painter, and
there’s a show in an art gallery and one of the paintings looks like this:
Still, it was a good walk by the
Sheffield canal. And there are many, far
worse things to find floating in the water than a big foam letter.
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