Sunday, December 24, 1995

Puri, the seventy-fifth day,



the tropical beach of the summer is the frame of the winter atmosphere of Christmas. The walking along the deserted beach is followed by the dancing and the shouting to the beat of electronic music of the "Walkman", to the maximum. Similar sensations to the ones felt in E-Werk but alone and without drugs. One of those songs ended with a long synthetic sound of waves. The actual noise of the waves, which was always present in my auditory landscape "behind" my headphone, seemed to have suddenly invaded and crossed it; the natural and the supernatural were combined. By a similar process, fixing the image of the waves gave me the fugitive impression that they were going to cross the barrier between the nature and my conscious, composed by the lens of my sunglasses.
There is a Christian church in the village of fishermen, people sings and claps hands to the Christmas mass, it is not really a sermon, it seems that all can be said in singing. Loudspeakers transmitted through the whole village the friendly singing to this population filled with festivities.

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