On the subway the other night, my iPod battery died but I left the earphone in. It was late and people were getting out of shows and going home, crowded. I could hear snippets of conversations ebbing and flowing around me, almost a phrase and response here, then it would fade into the general murmur and another one emerge over there. Not part of any of them specifically but part of all of it in a present but dissociated way. I thought of Wings of Desire and the scene with the angels in the library, listening to everyone's thoughts as they read or think, the voices coming and going, the angels present but not interacting.
Despite all the gaps and boundaries, things still get through. Asymptotes and other metaphors are limited to the extent that they are comprehensible. Art can not only frame how we see reality; but in some cases, can be the experience.