Cromwell Field - The LA Flood Project (sitios de interés)
Descripción del sitio
Stage 1
When the rain began to fall, those running around the track are not deterred. Some lift the hood of their sweatshirts over their heads without missing a step. Others do nothing. By the time the water reaches ankle length, most change direction and run for the bleachers. Some climb to the top of the small building—USC Track and Field--- bold, red letters against the grey sky.
Stage 2
From the top of the bleachers, people watch as the water pushed through the iron bars circling the track. Things carried on the current bang against the bars: bicycles, small trees, large ceramic planters, small dogs. One thinks he sees the body of young boy bounce against the metal. Those who can no longer watch, look upward in silent prayer.
Rain, rain, rain their only reply.
Stage 3
When the rain stops, the sun beats down immediate and full of force. Those looking upward must turn away from its brightness. The field is a pool of grey blue water reflecting the sun. Nothing moves. Then a bird rises from the center of the pool, alive. beating its wing against the air—it takes flight.
--LP
When the rain began to fall, those running around the track are not deterred. Some lift the hood of their sweatshirts over their heads without missing a step. Others do nothing. By the time the water reaches ankle length, most change direction and run for the bleachers. Some climb to the top of the small building—USC Track and Field--- bold, red letters against the grey sky.
Stage 2
From the top of the bleachers, people watch as the water pushed through the iron bars circling the track. Things carried on the current bang against the bars: bicycles, small trees, large ceramic planters, small dogs. One thinks he sees the body of young boy bounce against the metal. Those who can no longer watch, look upward in silent prayer.
Rain, rain, rain their only reply.
Stage 3
When the rain stops, the sun beats down immediate and full of force. Those looking upward must turn away from its brightness. The field is a pool of grey blue water reflecting the sun. Nothing moves. Then a bird rises from the center of the pool, alive. beating its wing against the air—it takes flight.
--LP