Impressions after Annie's Solo

Offerings of flowers, a cairn, and the melding of something once broken. The sound of rocks clanking and clapping in the pockets of an indigo blue pea coat. The Fremont Troll, existing in all his complex states of

dark, looming, caretaker, icon and shelter all at once. Annie, so small standing on the Troll’s gargantuan hand, watching me dance up the street to her through a pair of binoculars. The weave of traffic patterns and cars that didn’t quite know how to handle a dancer in the street. Two halves of a broken rock- on one, “Look from the Troll’s point of view,” on the other, “What was once severed, now whole.” Annie coming to see that these two sides fit together. Annie relating to the Troll in a symbolic way in her life. Her being a “connecter.” The Troll’s point of view being a spatial dream of curved archways, one after the other, upholding the bridge under which he sits. The contrast between the huge and the tiny. The feeling that Annie was with me. The heaviness of stone, the powdery, goldenrod-colored sand, the brilliance and eventual disintegration of all living things. Two people working together to make an offering of life in a dark place. The beauty of leaving something behind.