flood gates open, Selma AL
From Montgomery we went to Selma, pondering about history and present and future. Pondering about these two dots, the line between them, the bigger picture. We ambled through Selma’s streets, taking random turns and eventually parked in an empty lot behind beautiful, crumbling buildings by the river. If you take a moment and stand still, you can feel the energy-of-past-significance in this city, shimmering just beyond your peripheral and buzzing just beyond the reach of your fingers. And yet, it feels as if the tributary that had once sprung here has gushed on, flowed on, left its source cracking in the Mississippi sun. An idea for a new work began to percolate, but it was exactly then that a hard rain began to fall, erupted deafening and drenching, forcing us to flee back to the van. We waited and waited, but there was no letdown and in any case all was wet. We left one heart and moved on, riders in the storm on the way to the Mississippi.