I would love telling tales from the city where the city served as a powerful stage for the different characters like in James Joyce’s ”Dubliners”. The city comes alive when its inhabitants are fluctuating on the streets. Riga would be a perfect case study for this. You just have to keep your eyes and ears open, catching those little talks on the corner. You are not going to deny that nothing causes more sensation than getting off bus 22 at 11. Novembra Krestmala, feeling you are back home. Likewise you are not going to deny it is painful to say goodbye at 11. Novembra Krestmala wishing bus 22 would never come. 11. Novembra Krestmala is about transitions, as well as it is about the binary options of mixed feelings. A simple bus stop plays part in these narratives as a guiding metaphor, revealing how we are mapping ourselves ”this is my bus stop”. All in all, these places excite me and I would like to populate them with engaging people: Rigans. My first Rigan would be certainly a teenager, call him just Janis. In constructing this figure I tried to apply a narrative reading of the mental maps drawn by adolescents at a secondary grammar school. In other words, I’m reading them as if the city was a revolving stage. Places and people will come in turn. And I hope these shifting scenes would induce different stories in the schoolboy along with the audience uncovering those big dilemmas of bonding and distinguishing.
At the end of April
”You should have taken your sunglasses with you.” ”Yeah”, he replied vaguely. The sun shines in his eyes, so he stares down at the ground. He looks funny when he winks. It is such a beautiful spring day, everything should be perfect actually. Every city dweller moved out from their apartments as if they were just slumbering the whole winter. Two blonde girls are sitting on those funny yellow pipes, watching the river Daugava, the Tallink provides a generous backstage for them. It is already puffing, ready to depart. If he didn’t forget his cigs he would also light one and would start puffing circles. He is in the mood. Andrejsala is a good place to smoke. It is an avowed location to view the sunset and a cool spot where hippies are gathering together. It is just not a great day for him today. Today he even found the seagulls annoying, despite the fact that in the winter they looked fancy. Right now some guys appeared, who are skateboarding on the ground using the benches like they were made just for them. It is not entirely amusing, but they enjoy it. ’That’s what matters, isn’t it?’ His thoughts are spinning around something else. Something has changed. Thinking back now as they got frozen on Stone bridge, walking to Old town, he considered those times as good times. They were different or at least looked different, like siblings. They are still sitting there (how long will they stay there?), he wants to lean his back against something or someone, it would be more cozy, but he gets refused. ”Not here.” They continue to sit viewing the river or gazing at the ground.” He would like to scream like the painted face on the wall. ”Why I couldn’t get you off my mind?”, he thought. ”You should have taken your sunglasses with you”. ”Yeah”, he replied. So lets break the silence, ”How was Germany?”
(to be continued?)