k
And how it goes, nobody knows.
~~~
Little r sat on the lowest branch of the apple tree in the last flaring of the sun, near the Roding, dried up by reeds and long grass, stones and, ultimately, the time of the year.
"Are you having fun?"
"Yes, I suppose so," I replied.
"You don't always have to read your books"
"Okay, I'll keep that in mind, little one!"
~~~
What do we keep, what do we let go of?
~~~
'For the mind, everything is in the future; for the heart, everything is in the past.'
---Platonov.
One can only hint at the stories one cannot tell, the stories that slip on by.
And how it goes, nobody knows.
~~~
Little r sat on the lowest branch of the apple tree in the last flaring of the sun, near the Roding, dried up by reeds and long grass, stones and, ultimately, the time of the year.
"Are you having fun?"
"Yes, I suppose so," I replied.
"You don't always have to read your books"
"Okay, I'll keep that in mind, little one!"
~~~
What do we keep, what do we let go of?
~~~
'For the mind, everything is in the future; for the heart, everything is in the past.'
---Platonov.
One can only hint at the stories one cannot tell, the stories that slip on by.
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