The color, the grace and levitation, the structural pattern in motion, the quick interplay of live beings, suspended like fitful lightning in a cloud, these things are the play, not words on paper, nor thoughts and ideas of an author, those shabby things snatched off basement counters at Gimbel's.
-TENNESSEE WILLIAMS, Afterword to Camino Real
Writings and photos on hope and resilience; love and relationships; life and death; anger and acceptance; and human behavior and beliefs
Sunday, February 20, 2011
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The Fiddler’s Bill
The Parable, Redacted A long time ago, a grasshopper was hopping about, chirping and singing. A wretched thing, laboring away in the heat, a...
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“We shall not cease from exploration, and the end of all our exploring will be to arrive where we started and know the place for the first t...
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There's a meadow in my perfect world Where wind dances the branches of a tree Casting leopard spots of light across the face ...
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The Parable, Redacted A long time ago, a grasshopper was hopping about, chirping and singing. A wretched thing, laboring away in the heat, a...