Das Erste

Yesterday I stayed up long enough to witness a miracle of modern television. In that liminal hour between too late and too early, strange things begin happening on the TV. Most of the channels either stop broadcasting altogether and there are others which never stop. I discovered a third type, perfect for stoners, insomniacs, and anyone ready to have their mind blown. When Das Erste was done with their normal programming, one could witness a footage of a train going from Chur to Filisur (48km), as would be seen by a machinist of the train: just an endless railroad, bucolic landscapes, gentle hum of the engine, going and going and going. There is something absolutely fascinating about this useless redoubling. There is no story, there is no camera work, there is not even a time condensation to make it at least somehow different from reality. Just a footage of a train going and going, something one would barely be interested in watching were he an actual passenger on that train, consciously placed in the context of a medium which is a tool of escapism rather than a strange magnification of what is already out there anyway.