we borrow it from our children.
It was like this: you were happy, then you were sad, then happy again, then not.
It went on. You were innocent or you were guilty. Actions were taken, or not.
At times you spoke, at other times you were silent. Mostly, it seems you were silent — what could you say?
Now it is almost over.
Like a lover, your life bends down and kisses your life.
It does this not in forgiveness — between you, there is nothing to forgive — but with the simple nod of a baker at the moment he sees the bread is finished with transformation.
Eating, too, is now a thing only for others.
It doesn’t matter what they will make of you or your days: they will be wrong, they will miss the wrong woman, miss the wrong man, all the stories they tell will be tales of their own invention.
Your story was this: you were happy, then you were sad, you slept, you awakened. Sometimes you ate roasted chestnuts, sometimes persimmons.
I just want to be alone.
I let my whole life happen to me.
Bite, chew, and swallow; but smell first, if you wish to survive.
No; thank you.
To people who say that evolution is only a theory. It is not a theory. Evolution is as solid a historical fact as you could conceive. Evidence from every quarter. What is a theory is whether natural selection is the mechanism and the only mechanism. That is a theory. But the historical reality that dinosaurs led to birds and mammals produced whales, that’s not theory.
Can you fall in love with someone through their blog? David Attenborough quotes and Godard stills? I think I just did.