As I began my “Drift 1,” I noticed a lone man in the distance, rowing his boat, and I stopped to catch the sounds of the oars breaking the silence of the tide, both through the water and chunks of ice that had yet to melt.
As I began my “Drift 1,” I noticed a lone man in the distance, rowing his boat, and I stopped to catch the sounds of the oars breaking the silence of the tide, both through the water and chunks of ice that had yet to melt.
“Drifting” onward, I observed a flock of several types of birds gathering in the empty marina. I sat down to watch and listen. A passerby stopped and tossed the crust from his recently eaten sandwich into the circle. Panic among the feathered animals ensued.
After the birds calmed down, I continued down alongside the lakefront. Stopping to record a the low rumble of a passing plane overhead, a mother and child walked by, and the seemingly startled child exclaimed, “That goose attacked us!”
Having decided that I had ventured far enough and should head towards the city, I heard the faint sound of church bells clashing, and couldn’t help but wonder whether these sounds were of joyous or grim occasion.
The drift was nearing an end, and just as I had familiarized myself with the tranquility of the lakefront, I was crudely brought back to the reality of everyday life when the piercing shrill of sirens broke the atmosphere.