Sunday, April 16, 2006
So - what if a man can shunt a roof cleanly, rope it without error. What if, through practise & the erosion of time & process, he can hang motionless inside its jaw counting with his own breath, one to five, each increment of that hard expanse shortened purpose, each move steeped in calculus & reason. What if, one ordinary afternoon, as a black storm front passes out below Reykjavik coursing across the Kilda flow against gold sunlight, he decides to finish placing a few remaining anchors across its prone jurassic igneous spine. What if it eventually goes free, screaming above audible, a micro second of decision on the crux, an atom split through obsessive symbolic notation; perfectly aligned within its own brief culmination of ferocity & efficient effort. A horses head cracked, soaked in venom, flung defiant into the sky, the smell of rain on stone, the peace within an empty man, all falling to earth like ash...
What if a perfect individual moment, on a deserted rocky shore brings closure, to a natural bastion of wild hostilities...&, in turn, shockwaving the hive-mind, it drags the eye of a potential Pandora Trigger closer. No fuss, no great illusion or celebration. Can a climb be graded by the scars it leaves down the skin of the soul? Or do we whisper into the chasm historic, the dust ridden glory hive, of 9a, & leaving it to a rhetoric of scavenged, imitated opinion; simply walk away...

PT roof warrior project. Estimated time of quiet arrival: 05-06.

 
posted by ※Sgian Dubh ※ at 8:42 PM | 3 comments