I keep posting my page on FRONTLINE. Here is the February issue:
Gran Via, in late September Saturday, just minutes after being held in the Puerta del Sol a farmers demonstration in protest against the abuse of intermediaries and the ruin of field, what their work is worth what they cost compared to fruits and vegetables. I go to La Casa del Libro, buy "A worldly country" the last collection of poems by John Ashberry , a poet who touches me forever. Having regard for the occasion brown shoes with yellow laces, tights burgundy (bordeaux), buff breeches, a silk scarf in silver and purple Belgian designer Dries van Noten , a vintage coat and a huge frame bag, also in Burgundy, from Yves Saint Laurent . (After doing this detailed tour of my outfit I realize that I am one of the few contributors to this magazine that earn more with clothes than without it. Damn it my picture ...) I hope
on the sidewalk of the odd Great Way to spend a free taxi to take me to dinner at the house a couple of friends that I have promised a delicious curry, when suddenly appear beside me one farmer demonstrators, agricultural union flag in hand, please ask me to pose with him before the digital camera wielding his teenage son , which portrays us repeatedly that portrays me alone so many. I smile like an idiot. The boy looks at me fascinated. I suppose in the main street of the Valencian people are not as bold as I mess. At least alive. Shoot me again. I smile.
For a taxi. Free. I give the address where you want to take me, a street named constellation that is only found in the GPS, and then I pull out my Blackberry to tweet: "I have just been the victim of agro-Sartorialist ." I understand that an entry is very contemporary because that week was in Madrid and Barcelona Sartorialist presenting a couple of outlets in his first book with pedestrian street photography style.
Later at night, back to the Hotel de las Letras where I stay, I think in some agricultural association newsletter will appear one day a picture of me. If the agricultural union newsletters include among its pages a section of people, fashion or society. I also think that if given a bad day come, I always I can earn a living as a steward extravagant agricultural fairs and charge for my perch.
Once in the bed of my hotel room reading randomly choose one of the poems Ashberry, the book I bought that morning, before I knew that I would become a fashion icon in the vast rural or editorial sense of union publications. Abro "A worldly country" by any page and I find a great poem, whose final read:
"It's just a scrap, seriously, a fragment of life
in which no one else seemed interested. It is not what can one take:
is part of the decoration, dancing to forever. "
down And I smoke, so I light a cigarette. To compensate.
0 comments:
Post a Comment