Dear Gabrielle, Early every morning I look out through five power lines that make the sky like music paper, and clouds slide along those lines like sounds that have been translated into, I dont know, great sculptures made entirely out of raindrops, which is what clouds are anyway,. Then lately Ive been remembering how I used to walk so much at night, my shadow growing and shrinking almost in meter or a beat as I went from streetlight to streetlight down the sidewalks, maybe because of a night when my shadow was jumping me from behind. And the other day, driving home across the Golden Gate bridge, I saw white foam on the blue sea crashing into the shore, and I saw white clouds in the blue sky, and I was happy that the world had been constructed with such an eye for visual rhymes and rhythms. Theres so much more to say, but the Pacific and the rainclouds and I mostly just wanted to say hi. So many kinds of trouble are aafoot, but also clouds and waves and shadows. from across the great mysterious continent sliding into darkness, Rebecca
Posted on: Sat, 05 Apr 2014 01:48:55 +0000