frm EnsuiteWhen the deepest parts of us, the broken bits, the stuff we thought we'd lost, comes washing up the shores in a torrent of foam and fluff, I marvel to see how quickly it untangles itself. The wave that tumbles with such urgency, such force, becomes a perfect, slick fine layer of memory, appearing and disappearing in a moment, leaving behind a shadow of it's visit.
We spoke last night of Michael Haneke and Europe, and who the schoolchildren of 1918 grew up to be. We spoke of elder care and a birthright, and world-class cities: Paris, New York, Tokyo, London. We sat in a dark corner, with our chopsticks, one from here, one from there, and elegized that which we had, that which is still here, that which we can never get back.
We spoke last night of Michael Haneke and Europe, and who the schoolchildren of 1918 grew up to be. We spoke of elder care and a birthright, and world-class cities: Paris, New York, Tokyo, London. We sat in a dark corner, with our chopsticks, one from here, one from there, and elegized that which we had, that which is still here, that which we can never get back.
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