from stefan's dome i met this cloud-factory just below the horizon. i now know how the clouds are made!
and with a trick of sunlight a horizontal fragment of the city was transformed into an eastern palace. somewhere between a palace and a kingdom. somewhere between the ottoman palace and the lord of the rings.
the wind. the fucking cold wind on the dome was amazing. it cold have just taken us away. far and away and there we go.
the flacturms looked tantalizing. bulky and dark and had an interesting materişal presence.
i just watched how clouds were made just below the horizon. and saw Don Quixote de la Mancha to the left. he was fighting a wind-mill.
with a trick of the mind the city trascends its own bondage in matter. a slippage into the semantic horizon. the slippage to the imaginary. between fact and fiction lies the land of the fool and the brave. lies the land of the eternal wanderer.
the view from the stephen's dome can make a poet out of a wanderer. reach out to the snowy mountains. it is the siege of the sky and the sun! the most beautiful siege. that of the light. i adore light. a dramatic light, that was. constantly changing the perception of the lanscape. mingling it with fantasy. as far as the eye can see, as wide as the horizon of the imaginary.
actually what happened was:
the light revealed a second horizon. where an eastern palace might still be shining under a moonlight. tonight.
and siege is not the right word. i would rather call it "surrender"
the city surrendered willingly to the sun. to the wind. to the powers beyond our reach.