Descending into a Washington, DC metro station is an arresting experience. A steeply inclined escalator inexorably carries passengers down, what feels like several stories, into the bowels of the earth through a large concrete tunnel. Visually, the experience is dominated by perspective. Every thing worth talking about is constructed of parallel lines, the wiring on the walls, the sequence of lights, the rubber belts that power the escalator. All these things converge at a single point, down beneath you. It simultaneously inspires vertigo and claustrophobia.
Wednesday, 9 July 2008
I have decided to re-start my blog. It fell into disrepair after I returned from Paraguay, but I have decided that life at Princeton is just as bizarre as life in the jungles of Canindeyu. Of course, the name is a bit of a misnomer now; I sold my bike in June of 2007 for 800 dollars when I moved back to America. But I really miss it, and I feel that the name is appropriately nostalgic.