Days start with gentle gongs and orange skies, with songs like smoke, incorporeal and omnipresent. Today for the first time they penetrate my dreams and I unfold from sleep smiling and unsure why.
And, now awake, what do I do? I knock an ant off the table. Except I don't: ant is still there like a an ink splodge but live: standing on its back legs, all gnarled and scrabbling at the air. In agony?
I feel terrible and what do I do? I knock it again. Harsh but humane. Except, guess what? Ant shrugs off the killing blow, rights itself and trots off unperturbed.
In the meantime, the larger universe unfolds its volcanoes.
And, now awake, what do I do? I knock an ant off the table. Except I don't: ant is still there like a an ink splodge but live: standing on its back legs, all gnarled and scrabbling at the air. In agony?
I feel terrible and what do I do? I knock it again. Harsh but humane. Except, guess what? Ant shrugs off the killing blow, rights itself and trots off unperturbed.
In the meantime, the larger universe unfolds its volcanoes.
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