Beautiful, meditative piece. You weaved so many "pasts" among the "presents" here. This story reminded me of wandering a tiny Israeli town in the hills above the Galil. Winding streets, a garbage collector with a burro. The loneliness of being a wanderer in a strange place. Thank you.
Beautiful, meditative piece. You weaved so many "pasts" among the "presents" here. This story reminded me of wandering a tiny Israeli town in the hills above the Galil. Winding streets, a garbage collector with a burro. The loneliness of being a wanderer in a strange place. Thank you.
Thank you for your comment, Sue. There is something clarifying about being a wanderer in a strange place. Our past may meet our present to lead us on, which, depending on the circumstances, may be our only resource for going on. We are easily confounded, and yet winding streets and a garbage collector with a burro, to borrow your examples, might radiate with an overwhelming presence, even one that might nurture us, albeit for a moment.
Beautiful, meditative piece. You weaved so many "pasts" among the "presents" here. This story reminded me of wandering a tiny Israeli town in the hills above the Galil. Winding streets, a garbage collector with a burro. The loneliness of being a wanderer in a strange place. Thank you.
Thank you for your comment, Sue. There is something clarifying about being a wanderer in a strange place. Our past may meet our present to lead us on, which, depending on the circumstances, may be our only resource for going on. We are easily confounded, and yet winding streets and a garbage collector with a burro, to borrow your examples, might radiate with an overwhelming presence, even one that might nurture us, albeit for a moment.