Time can be a line, a river, a steady stream of sand, something that flows— inexorable, implacable. Time can be a circle or a gyre, a recurring series of events—years, holidays, seasons. Time may in actuality be none of these things, but we remain bound by our perception and experience of it. I have always … Continue reading Reading at Year's End
Memento mori
Anxieties
At any given time, I am a ball of anxieties. Like a tangle of yarn, I clump and loop, circling back to where I started and then knotting around again. I worry about the people I love, global warming, refugees in cages, if people like me, work, racism, cancer, the uncrossable gulfs between people, why … Continue reading Anxieties
When Books are Just Fine
I've read several books this year that were fine. Serviceable. Some even contained elements to admire. I wasn't mad at them. They were fine. But I don't read to read books that are fine. I read to be moved, to be entertained, to be inspired, to be impressed, to be wound around unexpected corners of … Continue reading When Books are Just Fine
