bee-york

Whenever I lie in this hammock I see hawks circling in the sky above. Around they go and I wonder what they're looking for. There are two or three of them. Silent, they never have to flap. I imagine what they're preying on or that they're kites. What a place for them to be.

You see, the hammock is just a hammock again. Except when I see its coarse colored canvas and I know that I am not the same Marge who started out the summer. I am not the same Marge who left for Paraguay.

I am not supposed to be.

I think about Paraguay a lot this week, we're editing our documentary right now. I spend all day, every day immersed in footage and harp music. We sometimes muse about going back, J and I. 

There was a group of girls from Ca'aguazu that called themselves Sonidos del Alma who sing and play guitar in such a way that you can hear what their hearts are made of. We listen to their songs over and over.

Today I watched Rodrigo ham for the camera. He danced and he laughed and Bruno acted too cool some more and Jose put on his best funny voice to say en ingles, "He-llo, how are you." Each syllable clipped. Then everyone would thumbs up and pose. Someone off screen says Rodrigo was singing earlier. We try, try, try to persuade Rodrigo to sing but the ham becomes a clam. Instead, a professor from Isla Pucu, who I now can't erase from my memory because he was on that one bus with us, sings traditional Paraguayan melodies for us. I watch everything unfold, laughing at everyone's antics, and think about how I'm now seeing things as the camera sees.

Do you ever think of this as you watch films? Maybe you shouldn't, maybe sometimes you should, but do you think about the screen being only part of the whole. how there are things happening outside of that frame, worlds and events that spread out for miles but still influence what's in the tiny scope of what you're watching?

I don't think I'm funny anymore. Have I been silly at all since I came back from Paraguay? Maybe it's just today.