Friday, May 4, 2012

everything was still potential

"Where are we going, Grandfather?" "When will we arrive?" At first I thought that he was going to go back to harrumphing and not tell me anything at all, or, even worse, try to throw me overboard for insubordination, but he tied the sail into a position he liked, and knocked out his pipe on the side of our boat, and leaned back into his cushion. When he was all prepared, he began, not in his nickel magic voice or his harrumphing voice but in his Christmas Eve voice, when he told stories about the winter, and I sat up straight and listened hard.

"Once, when I was about your age, my father told me a story about an island he had visited on his way home from China. It was unlike any land he had ever seen before: there were tall, jagged mountains wrapped around by dark fog, and there were waterfalls with little rainbows coming out of them, and there were trees that swayed in the wind and had bananas growing on them, but the bananas tasted like pineapples. There were little fresh water lagoons for swimming that were filled with tiny silver fish, and the sand by the water's edge was as black as midnight."

The Cat's Table / Michael Ondaatje

"This Saturday evening, take a look at the night sky and you might see something special. The moon will make its largest, most stunning appearance of the year—an event known to scientists as “the perigee-syzygy of the Earth-Moon-Sun system” and to the popular skywatching public simply as the “supermoon.”" -- Smithsonian Magazine