Sunday, August 12, 2012

"Well, there are scales you know..."

"Well, there are scales, you know just such scales as gold is measured in-just such, and as exacting, in which the measure of our act's taken."
It was not so much that all this transpired on an empty stage, as it were, no not that at all. It could have been an encircling satellite of some distant moon on a planet more distant still and made no difference whatever.
The Orphan Theme.
Her father left, and so she had searched for him in every shred and shard of man who happened by. Gonzalo and all the nameless hordes, those whose names were never known, who joined as the night marked as night. This was a Bombay deep as pitch. They came, and there was this sudden exitation, as would have arisen, no doubt, at the birth of an idea that some distinguished thing might this way pass...yes, that had always and ever been it, precisely. ...
and when she reckoned the image of her mother, her little fairy tale moght, it would have to be from an old all but forgotten photograph, a mere shade of a shadow of a shade-
The air is thick with grit-fine particles of dust adhere to the page on which I write...
It is all a matter of mirrors-a matter of mirrors.
She who was to be embraced as the embodiment of passion was as relentless a mechanist as the coldest of intellectuals. -
We think we see what we see, hear what we hear, think what we think and yes feel what we feel yet even in the dusky shades inhabiting all that is feeling were the mirrors, ever, and always.
This must be taken in...
to be continued....


  1. This comment has been removed by the author.

  2. The Blog among Blogs. Dylan Thomas are you alive and well in a new body?

  3. Tinmar I do not know who you are but yhank you for a response -