to sleep, perchance to dream
-shakespeare
a wet-plate photograph by stefan sappert captures the very moment of this anguish.
a low slumber envelops the winter days. perhaps the desire to sleep is a reaction to the bleak cold; isn’t hibernation nature’s way of conserving energy and survival.
everywhere people are braving the weather to their appointed positions. against their instinct they wake, walk briskly and wait at stations to be taken to work; to take their place in the greedy machine that flattened the seasons and crushed their free will.
the frames flicker on as the words flow forth;
why toil with building what you will destroy, rather watch the destruction on tv.
after reels of old movies, documentaries and vignettes i am haunted and restless. instead of restoring sleep comes something more sinister; nightmares of a future that is already past. la jetée plays staccato in my mind.
then tove jansson’s midwinter moomintroll finds the ghost of his ancestors hiding in the chandelier… and other perils of winter awakenings.
