a week roaming around the high desert and mountains of northern new mexico, time alone listening to the silence, and time catching up with one of my best friends --- all worked their magic --- taos was not nearly as prissy as i was afraid it might be --- thanks, cathi!
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tomitron
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9/07/2016 03:19:00 PM
Each of us is all the sums he has not counted: subtract us into nakedness and night again, and you shall see begin in Crete four thousand years ago the love that ended yesterday in Texas.
The seed of our destruction will blossom in the desert, the alexin of our cure grows by a mountain rock, and our lives are haunted by a Georgia slattern, because a London cutpurse went unhung. Each moment is the fruit of forty thousand years. The minute-winning days, like flies, buzz home to death, and every moment is a window on all time.
john northbrooke, c. 1570
1 comment:
wow. the pictures make one speech
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