An Urban Fairytale
Once Upon a Time...
The glow from the display read 11:56 PM, he looks onto the plains, moonlights bleach ever present, as he absently says "it's almost time..." She looks from within the apartment, a faint question lingering between them, "how long has it been since we last moved? Six months already?" "Yes, the time has come, officially 4 more minutes" he answers.
4 more minutes and all will change. Again.
Ironic, how nomadic forces won out after all these years. You are only 18 once, yet restlessness can live forever, at least that's what He thought.
Born 2000 km away, within what at the time was another economic experiment, She was drawn here with the promise of change and adventure.
And life is always an adventure.
Lop Nur is the set, the backdrop of this story. In the twentieth century its expanse was used to test nuclear bombs, loneliness and distances that could never be breached. A lake that moves eastwards, a river that never sees the ocean, a desert. The set of this tale of time and belonging, yearning and what else could you want?
A land with no sense of human belonging, no sense of place, not in the usual, urban sense. But then again, what is actually to belong?
Midnight approaching, yet light unfolds on the land. More so, on it's people. They came for a better future, hope in their eye. The lake glows, all functions well.
The experiment started one nondescript day in January, a border was drafted. All within will undergo a shift, immediately and periodically for all times hence, or as long as the government sees fit. A new economic order, a new paradigm they called it, an experiment they would not admit to anyone they doubted would work. Work, well, lets just say that work it did.
Music and architecture have many things in common. Rhythm, and the ability to create a personal space. Impersonality was the legacy of the last century, a technical achievement for all times to come. Is the lack of warmth a virtue?
Is it even real?
She was real for Him, He was real for Her, no city or mental image matters beyond that. What keeps them together is sharing, a broad and complicated concept. What they enjoy most is time, time together, time to dream and hope.
The city was conceived as a time share, the government holds the land and all constructions under it's control, a free flow of capital and population, pulses of industry and commerce with a cyclic undertone. Every six months the possession of all units (houses, factories, offices and playgrounds) shifts. One day, every six months. Midnight. The Witching Hour.
A constant revolution, one of endless combinations and infinite diversity. Capitalism by itself injected a certain level of uncertainty, of chance and why not, drama. Yet these times are not ones for the faint of heart. With so much to gain on a global scale, capitalism is sometimes not enough. Where else could such an experiment take place? Where else could it be so successful?
Life is an adventure, they both know it. They both embrace it. They both share it.
One more minute, their whole world could be contained in that moment. And what else could they ask for?
12:00 AM. The Witching Hour has come.
Time for change, time for sharing, time for all that makes us one and time for all that keeps us apart. After all, time is all we really have.
Now, and always.
