Things I'm thinking about. From Louise Erdrich's Last Report on the Miracles at Little No Horse, paraphasing:
How is a piano made? With time, centuries and centuries of time. (Think trees, imagine solar wind.)
And what is time? Time is a fish that never stops swimming. We are living on the rib of its fin. Sometimes in swimming through the weeds one or another of us will be shaken off time's fin.
One of my friends is writing an essay about Slow Food Love (pianos!) A fellow writer is contemplating persistence (trees!). Me, one hand is splaying through the water, one hand is holding tightly to the fin.
3 comments:
I am apparently hanging on to the part of the fin near the asshole.
Then you should definitely relocate.
Lol...yes, but that would require movement.
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