Foggy Walking Meditation
OllyOllen
At the end of Carol Reed’s film The Third Man, Anna walks alone down a long avenue, bare trees loom above her. To the left Holly Martins stands and waits to talk to her, to explain himself, to say goodbye. Leaves fall, Anna walks on, she doesn’t stop, doesn’t alter her pace, doesn’t even turn to look at Martins. The story is over.
This isn’t Vienna, it’s Toronto. There are no falling leaves, but a thick winter fog rises from the snow. A man walks over icy ground, and Mel is standing where Martins would have stood. I can hear zither music.
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