my week is one long bus ride-
a long drawn out documentary,
at times a drama, a comedy-
no subtle background sounds-
noise of trucks taking off,
rumble of cars grumbling stop and go,
background noise too loud-
steel clunk over potholes
of sherbrooke street-
no classical symphony streaming
over the pretty parts of the street-
no rap dubbed over thumping raw energy over
graffitti sprayed on anarchy
defiance protest colours-
no voice overs spilling out secret thoughts
of my self or the many passengers.
i can only imagine and observe
the million secrets of this bus.
no zoom in closeups - smooth dolly shots-
mostly just a long shot
of the long aisle of the long bus
on its long ride.
setting and location: quaint -
rolling through rich historic
parts of the street-
monstrous ionic columns of the
museum of fine arts-
cold old stone hiding pieces of the past.
the editing done in my mind-
focus on the sculpture - a large red heart
pop art on the street-
prestigious gates of Mcgill university-
past lawns of knowledge-
lots of grandeur-
past convents and construction glass buildings
reflecting sky.
the acting real - cinema verite -
not too dramatic today-
lots of extras-
wardrobe simple summer,
flip flops and cotton light,
at times eccentric artistic flavour.
hair and makeup well done:
at times,one or two radical heads,
dredded spikey cornrolled painted rainbow.
dialogue simple:
a day in the life-
yet one can analyze into layers.
what's the point ?
is there any point ?
full bus of many people
on a hellish day in rush hour-
going somewhere-
going nowhere.
surely there is a story.
there are a thousand storys.
lafontaine park signals my stop.
can a film ever capture this heat ?
am i the main actor ?
or just an observer ?
am i the director ?
am i the cinematographer ?
as i get off at notre dame hospital stop,
i let the film keep unraveling itself.
low budget - no budget-
conceptual art-
so far today,
two thumbs up,
later today take two-
long bus ride back...

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Copyright©2017-1999 by Rebecca R. Hammack

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