with the need to post something. This need has been tempered by an almost total lack of anything coming readily to mind. It’s not that my head is empty just now—far from it—it’s just that what is going on inside my head is not happening in words.
I’ve always believed that I have something of a visual memory or maybe even a sensory memory, and with it a kind of sensory relationship to the world. Funny, of course, because I’m not a “sensuous” person in that I don’t revel in sensory experience or seek it out, nor does it always impress or stimulate me. But I think that in terms of the way that I relate to the world, it’s often as a matter of images and smells and sensations.
Today images are flitting through my brain like leaves caught on wind. Here and there, autumnal, transitory, with slightly jagged edges. Many of them will inevitably end up underfoot, then be lost forever.
As Hemingway quoted:
“One generation passeth away, and another generation cometh; but the earth abideth forever…The sun also ariseth, and the sun goeth down, and hasteth to the place where he arose…The wind goeth toward the south and turneth about unto the north; it whirleth about continually, and the wind returneth again according to his circuits…All the rivers run into the sea; yet the sea is not full; unto the place from whence the rivers come, thither they return again.”