Wired World
6th Street.
Sisyphus* stood awkwardly as he waited for the pedestrian signal to change. Not quite understanding his discomfort, he adjusted his posture several times. His arms fidgeted around, trying to remember their natural position.
He had lived here for almost his entire life, but this past year had left him feeling more and more like a tourist in his own city. As he looked around, his mind soaked in the familiarity with distant eyes, as if he had just woken up and was getting a sense of his bearing. But he could not shake the sense of dissociation. Even the city’s distinct cacophony of odors could not break its grip. Whatever “it” was.
The pedestrian signal finally changed.
He impatiently stepped onto the street only to jerk back as a silver sedan raced past him. A few people around me threw their hands up in anger, yelling at the driver who was already long gone. An elderly woman further down the street with a walker made sure that the driver saw both her middle fingers before checking on me. He mumbled a few thanks, shrugged off the incident and continued his arduous trek.
7th and Spring Street.
At the corner of 7th and Spring Street, he was greeted by the disgruntled symphony of cigarettes, marijuana, urine, and falafel. One of many pockets of odors scattered throughout the city. Yet, his face did not scrunch up as it usually did in years past. In fact, he hardly noticed the odor at all as his face was scrunched for an entirely different reason.
His feet led him down Spring Street, stopping at his go-to coffee shop where the cashier was not in sight. He glanced at the door in the back as the barista tilted his head back and drew in a deep breath. Moments later, a lanky individual who had not yet outgrown his childish features rushed to the register. He hurriedly wiped his hands on his apron before greeting a customer with a heart-warming smile that radiated throughout the room.
Sisyphus stuffed his hands into his pockets as he waited in line. His fingers felt around the holes where they had long since ripped through. It was almost as if the holes had become holsters for his fingers. And as the familiarity of the holsters brought back a slight level of comfort, he began to dive deeper into the rabbit hole of his mind.
“Large black coffee?”
He looked up, a little startled, to see the distinct, infectious smile. He nodded and put down $3.50 on the counter before retreating to himself once more.
The coffee was all that was on his mind. It was futile to think about anything else until he had some caffeine in his system.
“Here you are!” Have a great day!”
Mumbling “You too,” he returned the cashier’s smile briefly before quickly snatching the coffee. His left hand automatically reached for an extra coffee cup sleeve as he exited the café and onto the street where his feet retraced their steps back to the intersection. From there, they led him down 7th street once more.
8th street.
Sisyphus leaned against the metro bus stop sign as he always did when he went to work. Having to make his commute during rush hour, there were always people sitting down when he arrived at the bus stop.
Except today was Sunday.
He was about to lean against the sign on the opposite side to relieve the pressure on his arm when the bus arrived earlier than he expected. Much earlier. He quickly got onto the bus, swiped his metro card, and stood still for a few moments, surveying all the empty seats before him. It was only until he lurched forward as the bus started moving that he made his way to a seat by the window.
A continuous tapping began permeating the bus over the roar of its engines. It grew faster and louder as a sense of frustration and irritation crept into Sisyphus’ feeling of dissociation. Words and understanding seemed to escape him as he tried to articulate these feelings. But the harder he tried, the more stubborn these feelings became in remaining at the tip of his tongue. Apart from the occasional sneezes from the other passengers and the sighs of the bus as it slowed down and sped up, the blur of street, warmth of the coffee, and the tapping of his leg was all he had to keep himself company whilst lost in his feelings.
Broadway Street.
After exiting the bus, Sisyphus remained deep inside his mind as his feet continued to lead him on. His pace quickened, his strides much more forceful, and impatience growing. It would have been natural for anyone watching to think that there was a purpose and destination. To Sisyphus, however, nothing could have been further from the truth.
When his feet suddenly stopped, he looked up to see the building where he supposedly found his soul mate, his life career, and ultimately purpose in life. Where things were supposed to fall in line and make sense. He was supposed to be happy and content. He should be grateful for what he had. And yet, the discomfort, the pain, the dissociation was all undeniably there, lurking and creeping into his every thought and feeling.
His sense of time returned as his neck began to cramp from looking up for so long. It was weird to think that he had spent so many hours looking down at the very spot where he currently stood. And now, he could not take his eyes off from the only window with a bright purple hue reflecting in the sunlight (a mistake on his part while handling office renovations). As if he was observing a previous life of his, a completely different person.
Nothing was wrong, he thought. He should not be feeling this way. There was no excuse.
He could feel a lump in his throat as well as the pit in this stomach growing bigger and bigger and bigger. His whole body began to tremble, tears started welling up, and his breathe grew very ragged. Moments later, Sisyphus was overwhelmed by emotions that he had no idea how to process.
Not wanting to break down in public, Sisyphus quickly averted his gaze, hunkered down, and continued to walk down the street.
Blocks and blocks went by and his emotions began to subside a little bit. With a clearer head, he also became more aware of the aches and soreness all over his body.
His arm recoiled as the hand holding the coffee unconsciously reached for his pocket. He thought he had spilled the coffee, but to his surprise, nothing had come out. He peered inside to see only brown stains and a few drops clinging to the bottom of the cup.
His heartbeat began tapping in place of his leg while his legs slowly fell in sync with the rhythm of the new tapping. He tossed the cup into a trash bin, re-holstered his fingers and trudged on. Left. Right. Straight. His feet were once more leading him through the city.
The streets once more became a blur. The sirens racing right past him were more like storm clouds in the far distance. He arrived at the bus stop that he normally took to get back home, but didn’t stop there. He had too much caffeine, adrenaline and emotions to be able to sit in a bus for any period of time.
He grew even more uncomfortable as the entire length of his fingers were now able to fit in the holes. It was going to be some time before his fingers adjusted to the new fit.
He slowed down at a red light to an intersection that looked very familiar. Sisyphus surveyed his surroundings a few times before then noticing that the traffic signal seemed like it was taking a longer time than usual. Growing impatient, when it did change to green, he immediately took off, only to fall back onto the sidewalk. Another car had sped by, trying to catch the light. Muttering under his breath, he looked up and in the corner of his eyes saw the street name.
His legs suddenly grew heavier and heavier as he crossed the street. His fingers wriggled around the newfound space. Sisyphus let out a deep breath, lowered his head as if he was avoiding being recognized, and pressed onwards.
6th Street.
Wired World, 2019
7′ x 7′ x 7′
Mixed Media Installation
*According to Greek mythology, Sisyphus is the king of Corinth who, after defying the gods and even cheating Death twice, was sentenced by Zeus to push a boulder up a hill for all of eternity. Once he reached the top, the boulder would fall back down to the bottom and Sisyphus had to start all over again. He is considered to be an absurd hero and is even characterized by the philosopher Albert Camus to symbolize the journey of finding meaning in a meaningless world.
Homer, The Odyssey,Scroll 11, line 13. (2020). Retrieved 24 May 2020, from http://www.perseus.tufts.edu/hopper/text?doc=urn:cts:greekLit:tlg0012.tlg002.perseus-eng2:11.13-11.13
The Myth of Sisyphus | Summary, Analysis, & Facts. (2020). Retrieved 24 May 2020, from https://www.britannica.com/topic/The-Myth-of-Sisyphus
