TRYST MANIFESTO

THE TRYST MANIFESTO

Tryst is an unexpected power outage, or running out of gas on a deserted stretch of highway. Tryst is a conversation with a group of strangers in a stalled elevator, fixing your own toaster, forgetting your cell phone, losing your keys. Tryst is an anonymous note. Tryst is finding the benign in a world of threats. Tryst is the game you play with traffic lights as you ride your bike across a city. Tryst is no umbrella in a rainstorm, an appointment with nobody, a long walk for no reason. Tryst is quitting your job. Tryst is flirting. Tryst is the baby you make faces at across the aisle of a crowded bus. Tryst is the fluid experience that surrounds the things you can describe. Tryst can't be bought. Tryst is a delicious joke. Tryst is three-dimensional. Tryst is making your own fun and your own dinner. Tryst is trust with a sidelong glance and a rear-view mirror. Tryst is reconfiguring architecture. Tryst is taking care and letting go at the same time. Tryst is a secret kiss. Tryst is spacing out. Tryst is listening to a tall tale with an open mind.

Tryst is participating.