That night people around me were slowly drowning in small talk. I’m not much of a conversationalist so I sat in the back of the room and listened. When I couldn’t take it anymore, I began to spit out phrases from Annie Dillard’s Pilgrim at Tinker Creek.
A teaspoon of soil
We can leave the library then, go back to the creek lobotomized
Emotions are the curse, not death
Self-consciousness……hinder the experience of the present.
Nobody listened.
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You have done it again... You changed the original post?
ReplyDeleteI must read it again, but (point 1) the same thing is in the habit of happening to me.
i'm on vacation, Mr. Crónicas...crazy, unusal events occur.........i do and undo.........like right now, i'm writing this and i have a toothbrush in my mouth...i type a little...brush a little....
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