And we: spectators, always, everywhere,
facing all this, never the beyond.
It overfills us. We arrange it. It falls apart.
We arrange it again, and fall apart ourselves.
Who has turned us around like this, so that
whatever we do, we find ourselves in the attitude
of someone going away?
on the last hill, which shows him his whole valley
one last time, turns, stops, lingers--,
so we live, forever taking our leave.
-Rilke
from The Eighth Elegy
love, late morning poetry, and last weeks of summer,
Banana
p.s. I am now a working woman. Feel free to praise me.
2 comments:
I'd love to praise you for getting job. Do you still have no phone? is that why I never ever hear from you?
this is beautiful, little nan. i am honored to have lent my bun and shoulder and left earring to the artistic photographs.
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