whatever is on my mind: questions of faith, problematic emotions, meditations on trees/sky/geese, intriguing ideas, books and stories and shows, conversations and quarrels, people and places
Thursday, October 16, 2008
It is so easy to break the veneer of being composed. A few words, an hour stretching into eternity, a shift in tone of voice, one person who didn't show up: and I am in tears under the round white moon, among the whispering trees, feeling so alone. The dark stretches around me, and the each scattered pedestrian is flying through the void to his own empty planet. I cry and cry, and can't even say why.