A City Tale


Click on photo to navigate through the site.

I finally got around to uploading some of the work i’ve produced this year. This particular piece was created in dreamweaver with all original images taken with a 35mm film camera and altered in photoshop to fit the interactive process. This is a true story told through broken sentences and linked words. Initially, I wanted to include some flash elements and animations, but since it is my first time interweaving CSS/Flash, i did not want to ruin the story by adding elements that would complicate my existence.
Navigate through it intuitively, have fun with it; there are no right/wrong ways to click about. The words all link to a final conclusion, so rest assure you will find your way home. By clicking on the “X” red tinted icon, you will go back to one of the main pages. With that stated, i will post the entire story below and let you have fun with the interaction.

A City Tale:

We had been walking for quite sometime now, when I mentioned how amazingly coherent and in sync the sounds of this city were. Sirens matched the beat to a background hip-hop song that played on the involuntary movements of a 60-year-old woman, who seemed so fragile yet full of life and personality.
For some reason none of us cared to pick up our cell phones in hopes that any of our friends knew how to direct us back to the apartment via smoke signals. We didn’t care that we’d been lost for almost an hour now, what kept us walking and wondering was her; the city. Like a giant magnet; it felt as if she was directing us towards wherever she wanted us.
It didn’t take us much time to find it. It was welcoming us from a block away, calling our names subconsciously in hopes that we’d listen. As we got close, the colorful vibrations seemed to almost ooze out of the cracked stones. Even the outside greeted our arrival with a giant multi-colored flag, like we were the day’s very own special guests. It couldn’t be ignored; the shouting energy and warm welcoming just led us straight inside that old building.
As we began exploring the old moldy place we discovered its peaceful and true origin. In every room there was acceptance paired along that same energy that filled the streets, but instead was compacted here in tiny viewing rooms of vivacity. Acceptance and adoration amidst the atmosphere, everyone enclosed in a tiny space sharing stories of the outside world and their tough exteriors.
We encountered a couple of older men sitting on a Victorian bench, deciphering what new products the supermarket had now put out to confuse them as customers. He spoke highly of New York, with the occasional curse word of course. Playing the role of well-mannered strangers, we butted in the conversation and I shared with him my thoughts on living in the city, and how I believed New Yorkers didn’t really have time to stop and smell the roses. Of course, leave it to me to spark up an argument about this as we were sitting in a gardened back yard, a little slice of miracle in the middle of New York City; with plenty of roses as the living/breathing contradiction. The time finally came, in which it was my duty as part of a much younger and inexperienced generation to give up my argumentative sword by calling it a difference of opinions. If I had only appreciated that moment as much as I did when I was removed from it, most likely I would’ve kept arguing for the sake of keeping the moment alive.
We kept scattering throughout the building and found probably one of the largest rooms in the center. Decorated with thick velvet curtains and wooden floors. Inside that room there was a mirage of collectible instruments, which were, to my surprise, for public use. A sudden urge to inspect the instruments took over our bodies, and a surge of what can only be described as collective synesthesia was felt as the instruments were tampered with. Our minds then drifted so far, we could no longer hear the city.
We realized we had a plane to board in less than two hours. Staring in awe, and simultaneously reminiscent thoughts of what had just occurred turned into a feeling of completeness. An adventure so perfectly unplanned it could only be successful in movie scripts. It’s difficult to put thoughts into words when speaking of New York City. In every corner there are scattered pieces of vital energy that bounce back and forth between strangers. The connections felt in this city will never be understood unless lived, even if for a couple of hours.

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