Fields of Gold (song by Sasha Lazard)

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I've been getting the "impending doom" message from my computer for a while.  You know the signs....the wheel that keeps on spinning and the start up engine that sounds  suspiciously like a cat about to cough up a hairball.   I'm not much of a tech person at all, but I've put some of the pictures with various songs.

Battle River Trestle

https://globalnews.ca/video/rd/1076167235521/
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It's no secret that I'm a rail fan.  In October, a train derailed off this bridge in Alberta.  Reports indicate that it was most likely caused by high winds.
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In this photo, the shadow of the trestle is visible.  However, if you look on the railing itself, it is possible to see that the guiderail has detached from the pole.
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That body of water is the Battle River.
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Those are cattle grazing below.  This gives some perspective as to the height of this bridge, which was built in 1908.
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It was hard to spot it, and I really had to crop the picture, but in the valley to the east of the trestle was an old homestead.  If you click on the photo, you can see its remains.  People often have an image of the prairies as being dull and totally flat, but that isn't true.  The colour spectrum may be subtle, but so is the woven work on  a  Missonni scarf, and nobody rejects that.

Predicting the Future at Three in the Morning

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Palm up, 

Flesh and future exposed,

I trace the lifeline.

Ouija with a razor.

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Pressure gentle, almost kind.

Tempting fate, taunting time.

I await the reprieve, that last minute call.

Some Capra-esque hero to stop my free-fall.

But who am I, Judge or condemned?

Whom do I pardon; who hears my amends?

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The mirror will not bargain,

The mirror won't conceal.

Naked truth, just the facts,

This magic eight ball shall reveal.

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There is no gentle grace in this, no sweet angels.

No arias  or auras or guides.

This will just be the end.

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The bird in the mist.

Understated Pride

While taking the train, I came upon this flag in a field in the middle of  a vast prairie field.  Who put it there?   There was nothing around for miles.
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Captured on Canvas

Hendrick ter Brugghen

Melancolia

(Art Gallery of Ontario)

I was struck by this painting at the Art Gallery of Ontario.  I immediately thought of migraines, rather than its title of Melancolia.    The artist, Hendrick ter Brugghen has perfectly captured the mood.  The woman is in a dark room with her head in her hands.  She is looking at a skull, as though she is searching for an answer as to why this is happening to her.  The candle on the table represents the burning and throbbing pain that this affliction brings.  The flame has a red colour at its tip, which makes the emphasis and focus of that pain even more obvious.

Scene / Seen (Major Stink Eye)

Poe has attitude.   And yes, notice the vast accumulation of books and magazines in the background.  Yikes.

A Tale of Two Cities ----Widow Basquiat: A Love Story (Jennifer Clement)

This book is a very quick read.   The author, Jennifer Clement, combines snippets of Suzanne Mallouck's memories with her own prose.   It is not the traditional biographical recounting, but, rather, a series of vignettes.  It is like sitting around with a friend, reminiscing about a person who is no longer with us.   "Hey, remember the time when.....?"  In so doing, it brings back a time and place that is gone.
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New York City in 1980 was actually two cities.  It was an exciting time for artists of all genres.  There were many clubs and the music scene was diverse.   Artists were making use not only of the lofts that were still affordable in the yet-to-be gentrified districts, but also of the streets themselves.  Graffiti art was making a headway.  Galleries were opening and taking a chance with these new artists.  Andy Warhol mixed with these new artists.
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However, amongst this creative New York was a city of destruction.  The drug market was so open, that the goods would be lowered in a bucket outside of buildings.  There was a lot of coke and heroin making the rounds.  People were just beginning to get ill with what would become known as the AIDS virus.
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Suzanne Mallouck left her abusive father in Canada at an early age.  In this book, her relationship with the artist Jean-Michel Basquiat is recounted.  The two of them lived together for a while and she offers the reader some insider knowledge as to the meaning of his paintings.  She met him before he became famous and watched his increasing use of heroin.  Within their circle were people like Rene Ricard, Madonna and Keith Haring.
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This is also the tale of a black man in an Armani suit who could not hail a cab, for they would not stop for him.  Suzanne was friends with Michael Stewart, an unarmed man who died after being stopped by the police.  The book briefly recounts her attempts to seek justice for him.  It discusses why Basquiat took water into a museum and secretly sprinkled water in corners---for there were no black artists hung there.
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Despite her own usage of heroin, Suzanne stopped and went to medical school.  She currently treats addicts.
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As an aside, I am adding information on the Michael Stewart case at the link below:
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Michael Stewart case