Well yesterday, I went downtown, and wandered aimlessly for about 4 hours, without actually knowing where I was, mostly in an attempt to waste time for the Homo-Hop opened.

I then found myself in Cawthra Park for the first time. The sky was very over cast and looking like it would rain any second, and the wind was cool on my skin. The reason I went in was that I had spotted the bright red of a silk climber amongst the trees, and having seen this before felt I should stop and watch her perform. As I got closer I realized it was an instructor teaching someone how to climb the red fabric, I sat and watched for a minute by the fountains, as the pigeons gathered around expecting food. They moved in patterns, one would came close as the others crowded on a drinking fountain across from me, and then another would come and waltz with the bird and switch places. I found myself paying more attention to the birds than the master and pupil with silk. It was rather peaceful, the water providing a distraction to the song of the city, that constant hum and rumble. I then got up and walked along the path to the stones. This was my first time actually seeing the AIDS memorial. I am not sure I can describe what I felt as I slowly moved among these grave markers, examining the names, so permeate and forever in the stone. I was filled with a sense of a dark history, welling up from the depths of my mind, the words, "I am as you will be." Kept playing through my head, I was terrified, and yet could not tear my eyes from this testament to suffering. I must tell you that I have never met anyone who has AIDS or is even HIV+, I all I know is what I have been told from research and movies. To actually see these names, lined up like solders in a senseless war, it chilled me to the bone. Perhaps the worst part are those names without birth dates, people who had no past, and met their end with no one knowing where they came from. Or, perhaps it was the empty places, the pieces of paper that are placeholders for more names, the incompleteness of the site itself, the fact that there is room for at lest 3 more stones to stand. It was too much for me. I retreated to the water and feathers, the crimson silk. Yet, even as I was reeling from this surreal horror, the park was still a refuge, a place of peace. the dogs still played free in the grove. The climbers still chatted away in a spicy language I do not know. The children still laughed in the playground. The rock doves still danced on the edge of the fountain. This monster may lay in wait, seeking a time to strike, but life goes on.

I got up and left that place of peace and solitude, knowing more, and feeling fulfilled. I had found something great and wonderful in the shade of the trees, in the heart of the village in the city of gray. Something I was not looking for but needed.

-Alexander J Curley