“Our reasonings grasp at straws for premises and float on gossamers for deductions.”
-Alfred North Whitehead
Minimalism and extremism can be condensed into a one-letter word: I. Altheimer believes in this word. As his team, we make up a slightly larger word: flock. But the winds have been changing across the American southwest. Birds are acting strange and we are turning into a family.
In New Mexico we drove along a dirt road and stopped to explore the land: nothing but cacti and a large dead bird sprawled across our path. We drove on and a small grey bird flew into the grill of our van while I was driving. I’m usually biking around New York. I haven’t contributed to the road kill population in years and years.
In San Luis, Colorado, we stopped and ate Mexican food. Dogs roam this town freely. A large catholic church on a hill overlooks “the oldest city in Colorado”. There was a funeral for the priest of the church the day we rolled in. Theresa, the cook, rapidly took our orders and then closed up the restaurant to pray for him and watch his coffin lowered into the soil.
Dennis spotted a bird that was trying to fly away from a roof but couldn’t. Its small foot was tied up in trash that was trapped within the roof. We found a ladder and he saved it. One possible ending for this campaign: We discover Dennis is the messiah!
Three birds. No Direction. European hope. Obama or McCain? None of the above? Vote Jefferson then.
Next up: Reports on Walsenburg and Colorado Springs
-VK
