August 12, 2012

Chris Marker (1921 - 2012) - The Jetty / A Remix

“ I ” have a dream that one day [A FACE] will rise uuuuuup.
[A FACE] of ruins, though different. That [FACE] HE had seen from his
childhood, though different. A woman’s [FACE] ?
A [FACE] uninhabitable, riddled with birdsreal birds. With catsreal cats. With
gravesreal graves. Later, HE knew and some’time’ after, HE knew he was a man.
HE was the man over an empire of ratsreal rats.
“ I ” have a dream that one day, after painful tries, deep in this
limb’o, there it will be: the [FACE] <<<time of gardens, of flavors and benches} like landmarks in
museumsreal museums,,, though different.
Is it the same day? # HE doesn’t know# †he Fu†ure,,,,, better protected
than †he Pas†,,,,, <<<crumpling body, and the cries of the crowd}. The violent
scene upsets him and HE hears himself say : « This is where I come from ».
“ I ” have a dream today. Dreaming
live in,,, the g’host selects his obsession whose meaning HE is to grasp only
>>>>years or hours later>>>>. HE never knows whose story we are telling
on the sixteenth day. >>>>Later>>>>, HE knows {he had seen a man
die}. A man they were able to conceive in peacetime bedroomsreal
bedrooms. While many died stripping out †he Presen† or seeking smilesreal
“ I ” have a dream that one day the shock will be too great. The
man doesn’t want to die. HE suffers. HE remembers. HE is frightened. HE
speaks again. HE never knows. HE listens. HE exists. HE dreams. HE suffers,
exists, remembers and speaks again. And HE never knows. Like a sophism
merging |planes|||bodies|||and|||walls|. This world of childhood, of happiness,
though different.
This will be the day. A day, above the ground, a day subjected to
experiments without memories, without plans. As most of the world. Is it
the same day? Is it the f1rst, the tenth or the sixteenth day? >> †he
Momen† returns, empty and surprised to be born again. <<<
back>>> as a natural phenomenon, though different.
This must become true. As for him,,,, whether HE moves on the jetty
or whether HE walks on the balcony,,,, HE knows †he Mee†ing will take
place. HE feels the pacified dream of peacetime radioactivity. And the
criesreal cries of the crowd. And the cries of the [FACE]a real face
On this day, the countless walks behind the barriers of Fa†e will be driven
by strong mental images as †ime builds itself painlessly around (((him))),
‘f’r’a’g’m’e’n’t’ b’y f’r’a’g’m’e’n’t. Other images invent explanations but trust
remains unspoken. Images of tamed animals moving without effort
towards survival. « This is where I come from » but his dateless excitement
will be doomed.
Let freedom ring. Confessions settle in an underground network of
glass and plastic galleries. Beneath C***, beneath O***. The galleries
expanded,,,, off-limit,,,,, like a loophole in a trance. The human mind
recaptures an unreachable country,,,,, a long way to go.
When we let freedom ring, HE stands up. HE walks towards his
Mee†ing. A jetty? A balcony? HE recognises the man, the [FACE] who had
trailed him. HE hears. HE hears. HE hears again. The sudden roar, the
crumpling body and the cries of the crowd assembling around (((((him))))).
This Momen† is the Momen† of his own Dea†h.
Free. A brief encounter with a bullet and this is the end of the
experiment. HE is free at last. “ I ” am free at last ! ! !

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