How quiet it is.
Too soon to wake.
Too late to stop the mind.
A hamster on the wheel, spinning.
Duras: “How quiet it is,” […] “Who’d believe our nights are such an ordeal?”
In the Quiet Zone.
Ascending to de Botton’s higher consciousness. Or somewhere.
Alain de Botton: “Perhaps late at night or early in the morning (when there are no threats or demands on us), when our bodies and passions are comfortable and quiescent, we have the privilege of being able to access the higher mind …We loosen our hold on our own egos and ascend to a less biased and more universal perspective, casting off a little of the customary anxious self-justification and brittle pride.”
I do feel that ascension. Now if I could only park here.
Father and his daughter walk to train station. It’s 45° F. “It’s cold Dad.” I look down at her bare red legs pockmarked with goose bumps: “Why aren’t you wearing nylons?” She snaps back at me: “Really Dad? Nylons. Nobody wears Nylons anymore? That’s creepy.”
So, now I’m on the wrong side of 50 and creepy. OK, so it wasn’t a focus area. And, it’s not that I haven’t looked at women’s legs. And there you are, a flat stone skipping silently across the water, jumping decades of fashion revolution. [Read more…]