Smoke from Marcos’ mouth moves like a jelly fish. It floats and folds and swirls and folds back onto itself.
It opens into entirely new shapes, mostly spirals with disappearing spires. Clouds move like that, they roll and tumble and collapse onto themselves, swirl and kick off wisps that rise and roll again.
Sea fog along the coast, like along the edge of Pescadero Creek, moves like that, too. It rises in a line of thin threads whipped by the wind, often ending in tall loose braids that dissolve into faint misty curtains, indiscernible from where they began. Swallows and bats move like that, darting and diving, circling back upon themselves, swerving, effortlessly, to avoid flying into each other. People can’t seem to move that way. We seem to have lost our ability to swerve and sway. They/we constantly collide, bump into each other, step on each other’s toes, all toes and elbows, bruising egos, scarring pscyhes, alienating the other side. Maybe there’s an app for that, tap a screen and move like Balanchine.
This is one of your best or at least one of my favorites. Great stuff!