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epitome of incomprehensibility
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Sometimes the city's subway network turns into an indoor slide park, which then turns into a dream_book.
In the meantime, a "Swedish slide" is one that curves up at the end, so you're tossed up and then back down to its lowest point. But gently, always gently.
Another slide is named "Al-Aqua" after a place in Iraq. This is to raise awareness of the war in Lebanon.
Sometimes there are steps instead of slides. I question how to navigate a set of giant blocky ones. A man who looks like my father responds, a little impatiently, "Can't you fly?"
"I think it's like swimming. It's just easier going up than down." So I swim-fly upwards, where I'm met with a view like the top floor of the Biodome. I can see the outside of one of the animal enclosures. There's no netting on the top. The white walls rise in a cone shape and vines with curling leaves are bursting out at the top.
"If I aim right, I can fly in there and see the elephants," I think.
The elephants aren't live animals, just parts of a tapestry, and I'm not supposed to be there. As punishment for trespassing in the humid tropical rainforest, a green vine curls around my leg.
It's the metro-line-turned-slide, I decide. Everything_is_connected. And it will catapult me into a children's book from 1965.
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