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About
i was just going up the stairs to my attic flat when a man who was steadily making progress up the third flight of stairs turned and looked at me 'Hombre!' he said, 'Buenas tardes' he said. 'Buenas tardes' I said as I passed him; the yellow walls bright in the sun and the lower pale green area dirty from children's stabilizing hands.
why am I here in Madrid, somehow balanced and insecure, always on the point of losing everything and discovering a great treasure? today the wind blows and I want to record the sound in the aerials, the chill as I sit too long here without moving and think of all the people in the metro sneezing and coughing.
i am nearing forty years old and still try to follow my creative dreams.
www.myspace.com/charles_olsen
