"This visually replaces the relatively flat landscape of the valley floor with vivid historical channels, showing the dynamic movements the river has made in recent millennia."
This poem:
...For once the shells split and sapphire
And fire-opal fledge in their filth
And six or seven small spurts of flame
Are tumbled out into the dazzle
A micro press with approximately the most beautiful landing page ever:
This little glory of bookmaking:
(Charlotte's picture of things in progress) |
Today I walked into my building at 10:30 a.m., and walked out at 7 p.m. In between, I graded and talked to many many students. Waited in vain for a few of them. Talked to colleagues who were cheerfully doing the day-before-a-holiday work of talking and waiting. Worked with Charlotte on the book project--so many steps!
I feel lucky about my work, all of it, the teaching and the planning and the writing and the dreaming. I am lucky in my friends, the ones I have known since I was a half-formed girl, and the ones I am lucky enough to work with every day. I feel lucky in my family: the big, beautiful chaos of it, the history of songs and movies and love and argument, the people from whom I come and the people who come, in part, from me. I'm lucky in love, in my marriage, in my home, in the solace and shelter I find there. The world is unendurable and unbearably beautiful. It's mystifying, it is terrible, it strikes awe. I am tired, I am impatient, I am alive.
Love you!!
ReplyDeleteLove this all, especially the quiet pathos of that final paragraph, HT. You speak from your heart and it touches ours.
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