Last night, I arrived just outside of Washington D.C. It is the end of one segment of my journey and the beginning of another. It is here that I ditch my Pittsburgh acquired bike and teleport into the city. From Brunswick, Maryland, I will commute in with the regulars to the centre of the US capitol.
On the train into D.C. this morning I was surrounded by a sea of regulars-- those who live in the small towns of Harper's Ferry or Brunswick and commute in to their DC jobs. Many are of course government workers. It was fascinating to partake in this mundane requisite moment of so many indigenous carreers.
I was writing a poem about my bicycle (which I had poetically exchanged for a superb dinner the night with a local restraurant owner), when the conversation of two passengers caught my attention.
Well dressed in suit and tie, but in rather conservative cloth, and adorned with US senate security badges their conversation concerned legislation going through the senate that day.It seemed to concern financial help for the big and flailing mortgage companies. Pen already in hand, I was able to write down snipets of their concern.
"... we're talking about establishing drawdowns for Fannie Mae and Freddie Mac...."
"... I really wonder if the Fed is capitalized enough to handle it..."
"... the implicit backing makes no sense..."
"... I think there is a heck of alot of manipulation going on... "
"... they're just pawns in a big game really ..."
Whispers in the corridors of power. What does it all mean exactly? Who are the pawns? Who is manipulating? What is being manipulated exactly? These were but whispers in the corridors of power-- eclipsed at times but trains whistle and passing traffic. Whispers of changing times.
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