Dimly aware, misty thoughts swirl, coaxed by some neurobiological genie. What takes shape can hardly be described. Constantly shifting appearances. It's more or less a reflection of the writer's own self-perceptions. An occasional shift and momentarily there's a glimpse of clarity. Another instance clarity vanishes.
Eons of time, past and present places, people known and unknown seem to emerge in and out of awareness. Other's realities merging with mine. This consortium is meaningful to me. Am I so alone in my awareness of my world? There are authors, poets, painters, sculptors, composers, to...roofers, farmers, cleaners, nurses, doctors, surgeons, factory workers....all swaying in a motion of individuality and unity.
Parallel living. Someone is born while another expires. The myriad threads of human lives weaving from moment to moment to create some stupendous tapestry of breathtaking beauty: life.
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Just some of the images arising between the spaces of reading two very dissimilar works this morning.
Clark, Donald H. Loving someone gay. Lethe Press, 2009.
Neruda, Pablo. Pablo Neruda-Veinte Poemas de Amor Y Una Canción Desesperada. Manchester University Press, 2007.
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