285 Something series-20 (echoing some words in a poem I've read ... where was it , this I can't remember... )
Something like
temptation. For landscape. Without map . A river winding . Past tense
sounds wound. Then woundscape. A place from which you embark for a life
journey. It unfolds its roots in the poem.
Quelque chose. Comme tentation. Pour un paysage. Sans
carte. Une rivière tortueuse. Au passé entendez torturé. Donc
paysage blessé. Une endroit d’où vous embarquez pour le voyage d’une vie. Il déploie ses racines dans le poème.
The wounded countryside, it describes us all, I think. And how we minister to it. Strange how our best memories sprang from there, a smell and sense of light. Forty years later, I can still remember like it was yesterday the south of Spain, the fincas and the open sharing of the fruits of the land, and how I felt so included in that, an outsider, a foreign person. They gave their souls. Why? Because they knew their souls were unlimited, spacious to the extent of the heart. I miss that.
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