Monday, August 6, 2012

"..his habituated parsimony favoring art..."

"...for years he'd been inscrutably monotonous" and now this sudden turn, this coming into new terrain, this unhazarded outcome, brought him to his narrowest quarters ever...alone, alone, alone in his cell he heard the voice of a cricket musician seeming to penetrate the thick adobe wall or perhaps it came from above through the small window open to the outside...he thought this over before resuming his journey, eyes closed, back home. He inspires, somehow, an ambition within me, an ambition first of all to do...to do thus to be...to do something instead of nothing, not needing a reason why...to trace with him the insistence of a ghostly character given yet another chance to shine is to at once examine the ghosts of all unfinished intentions within one's own sphere-to bring again to light with the vividity of the possible, those half-forgotten projects of the past. And with this comes the dertermination of a moment...to make them real..."
to be continued

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