In the old days, if someone had a secret they didn’t want to share, they went up a mountain, found a tree, carved a hole in it, and whispered the secret into the hole. Then they covered it with mud, and left the secret there forever.
This is not a story about foiled plans and what’s the use of trying anyway. This is precisely a story about making things- making stories, making plans, making lists, and making love- in the face of the inevitable messiness we will encounter.
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“Remember: our faces in proximity make a pure small space — a vessel or goblet that could hold the whole Atlantic…”
~Mary Karr, Summons
In the old days, if someone had a secret they didn’t want to share, they went up a mountain, found a tree, carved a hole in it, and whispered the secret into the hole. Then they covered it with mud, and left the secret there forever.
Posted on January 6, 2010 at 5:35 am in Uncategorized | RSS feed | Reply | Trackback URL
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