… and so all follows water’s path, from cloud to peak, from heights to valleys, from valleys to the sea; follows through channels that life itself creates, in currents at times quickened at times slowed by degrees of its descent. The selfsame wave that rises, falls; the selfsame lightning separating droplet from the whole, sees …
Nineteen eighty-four. What was at one time a distant dream, the darkness of a book, an election year, a future, became the present. We didn't have to do anything; we didn't lift a finger, but gradually the date overtook us and passed us by, leaving us stationary at the roadside, the dusty wind of its …
… and it is not as though there weren’t months and years ahead. The difficult events of our lives are like stones dropped into a bed-sheet, the whole of its white expanse falls, by weight and momentum, and gathers together into a knot of cloth. That night cloth is gathered together in our clenched fist, …
Love my last and greatest companion this heaviness will pass… just a salt wind from the ocean stale air before the storm that seems can never break will break I thought once that the source of our creativity was the height of our joy — but then I found it difficult to write …
The tamed range is filled with Cawdor wood, and every glance outside is a reminder of my failure as a suburban land steward.
In 1985, I spent several months living on the island of Java, in Yogyakarta, having traveled there with a partner in the evening of our intimacy. I sat out nights with our mutual friend Muller, a Sumatran who was studying at the University, on the grass mats of Jalan Malioboro, smoking Kretek cigarettes and drinking …
tech • nol • o • gy | tek'näl?j? | noun (pl. -gies) ORIGIN early 17th cent.: from Greek tekhnologia 'systematic treatment,' from tekhn? 'art, craft' + -logia 'knowledge', originally in reference to grammar. In the mid-1800s applied to industry and industrial works. Finally, circa 1964, 'High Technology' was coined for the overtures of the …
The moon poured its smiling face silver over the yard, and you moved your hand an inch, then another inch, then held my cool fingers in yours that were so warm.
"I was born in a suburb outside of Pittsburgh, two blocks off the rail line – before it was abandoned, and then reclaimed for pedestrians and bicycles – so that the 7:45 and the 8:30 made audible bookends to my bedtime, first calling ahead, then calling behind, and finally the stuttered step of the cars …
Ai, que dificuldade. Sabe, gente, que só nos terrenos brasileiros é possível viver como brasileiro. Não importa a vontade, não importa a ídioma empregada, não importa o abraço, não importa a comida… se torna brasileiro quem pisa na terra brasileira. Abra a porta carioca, deite na cama paulista, seja tocado pelo vento porto-alegrense… aí gente, …
There are too many waterfalls here; the crowded streams hurry too rapidly down to the sea, and the pressure of so many clouds on the mountaintops makes them spill over the sides in soft slow-motion, turning to waterfalls under our very eyes. — For if those streaks, those mile-long, shiny, tearstains aren't waterfalls yet, in …
The cobbles of the roadway wind from the heights down to the Saint Lawrence, through the old Centre Ville, where the money of past generations found their comforts, and the history of a nation come and gone remains on the tongue, in the food, in the grey and red blocks of granite in the walls. …