About a year ago I was driving down Snelling--a street that some might consider an unlikley place for small, stupid, and beautiful things, but a prime locale in my mind--and listening to The White Stripes. As I cruised through the intersection of University and Snelling, I saw a man, in-between two zooming lanes of traffic, on his bike pedaling backwards, completely stationary. The effect was mirage-like; moving yet unmoving, safe amidst a dangerous flowing mechanical river. Beautiful.
Contributed by Aryn.
Wednesday, November 29, 2006
Sunday, November 26, 2006
Alphabet Soup
Once, when I was sick, my mother decided to settle my stomach by feeding me crackers and alphabet soup. I made it through three-quarters of the bowl and a half dozen saltines before my stomach turned.
As my mother swooped in with a washcloth and indomitable long-suffering, all I could do was stare at the mess I had made, trying to make words out of haphazard strains of partially digested letters. I feel like I am still doing this: making messes on paper and thinking that when it is all said and done, I will read something true.
And beautiful.
As my mother swooped in with a washcloth and indomitable long-suffering, all I could do was stare at the mess I had made, trying to make words out of haphazard strains of partially digested letters. I feel like I am still doing this: making messes on paper and thinking that when it is all said and done, I will read something true.
And beautiful.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)