You find it in the things that matter. Keith Jarret's piano lines. A Francis Bacon painting. Tasting a fresh garden-grown tomato and being stunned at how much taste the small red thing holds. Sometimes I find it in lines of writing, in images. Sometimes in laughter. And sometimes though this sounds dangerously close to being sappy, in falling rain, some clouds, and dead leaves.
It's a good question. I don't think there is any one answer and I think my answers, such as they are, are in a state of flux.
2 comments:
My only consolation is that I am old already, and did not procreate, but then that is selfish in its own way, I expect.
So be it.
You find it in the things that matter. Keith Jarret's piano lines. A Francis Bacon painting. Tasting a fresh garden-grown tomato and being stunned at how much taste the small red thing holds. Sometimes I find it in lines of writing, in images. Sometimes in laughter. And sometimes though this sounds dangerously close to being sappy, in falling rain, some clouds, and dead leaves.
It's a good question. I don't think there is any one answer and I think my answers, such as they are, are in a state of flux.
How, indeed?
Post a Comment