61. Cities Aviv feat. Fille Catatonique “Black Box” Digital Lows [Fat Sandwich]
“We can talk about it tomorrow because I might see you tomorrow, and everyday.”
The five of us relaxed in hammocks. It took over an hour to find six tree trunks close enough to each other that we still felt together but also that properly allowed enough room and slack to successfully hang the large mesh swaths. We were very particular, but it paid off in spades. Drinks on the ground within our reach, the sun beating down with warmth instead of oppression, and the only evidence of civilization (and thus, responsibilities, stresses, etc.) were the gentle passing of cars down the nearby intersecting street and avenue. A distant tinny stereo played Gil Scott-Heron and while no one could quite pinpoint whose it was or even where exactly it was, no one cared enough to flip up their shades or even sit erect to search. Sometimes someone would say something, but it was never about the present or the future; the past was always the topic. Elsewhere, without hammocks, it would have been talk of should haves and regrets. Here it was about remember whens and that was the bests. There was no plan. I guess in the back of our heads we knew that when sunset came we’d have to make a decision, but for now it was only about horizontal unity. For a little while I read a magazine. Then I put it down, tried to hear the beat emanating from several feet away, and just swayed.
