Miracles happen in José Saramago's books. In The Stone Raft, the Iberian peninsula detaches from the mainland and sets afloat, among attacks by migratory birds, terrestrial tremors, and as always, powerful female characters searching for ports. A magical and vertiginous journey between Europe [goodbye] and new worlds. I've always liked Saramago and the idea of a mobile bridge sent off towards distant shores. It is a totally human need to move beyond boundaries. To push limits. A sortie towards discovery. The call of distance. And isn't it a miracle to reject the obvious of the world and only imagine a connection between such distant lands, faiths, and cultures?
This is why I prefer the ideas of navigating "itineraries." Not the usual objectionable bridge. Hard and impossible. Steps, in other words. Like every journey. In which each segment can become a microcosm of a new life. Until you find more value in the journey than in the destination. We are talking about experience. Is the safety of the destination really that important?
Connecting two remote shores with an archipelago of fragments might be the most effective way to overcome the impossibility of distances that are too great for mankind. Crossing borders is a possibility.
Postcard #156. [top image] Thin platforms on water in a pattern of geometries and colors. Fundamental acknowledgment of commitment to coexistence. A idea of a variegated itinerary of stops, delays and accelerations. Colors of the seas and vegetation. Generated by elements of nature.
I've always liked Saramago and the idea of a mobile bridge sent off towards distant shores. It is a totally human need to move beyond boundaries. To push limits.
