Thursday, April 17, 2008


What is the minimum essential amount of baggage to carry between streets, between cities? The weight of memories, impressions in concrete, solidified emotions which form an anchor to a place so effective that Tokyo and Topeka become interchangeable. A slim photograph all that remains of one's past: every trip an attempt to match the furnishings of that half-remembered living room, dust reflecting light in the late afternoon, the sound of china at tea time. The cardigan which goes everywhere but is never to be worn, functioning as a security blanket on a trip between each state capital of the original colonies, each battlefield of the Civil War. The suitcase used by a grandfather, an ambassador, a suitcase still carried, even on overnight trips; or a letter, folded and creased almost beyond endurance, the essence of a romantic love felt more strongly than health, hunger, heat.

reading the fall of light in the lengthening twilight
weather progressing onward through to summer at a brisk trot