Utopian Turtletop. Monsieur Croche's BĂȘte Noire. Contact: turtletop [at] hotmail [dot] com

Wednesday, March 07, 2007

There's so much I want to tell you, and mostly the feeling of wanting to tell you, the feeling of words rushing up to the tips of the teeth, eager to be spoken.

At the playground at dusk, the kid running around, I'm the scary monster chasing him, and he invites other kids to be chased by me, and two join in, and we're running around as it's getting dark, and I remember running around as a kid, when it was getting dark, and the feeling that time is boundless, there will always be enough time, the finitude of time is inconceivable; and now as a man I know how brief anybody's allotment is, and how sweet it is to run and run and run, and eventually scoop the kid up and throw him over my shoulder and pretend to eat his shoulder or his belly like the scary monster I am.

And then it's dark, and it's time to go, and on to other things.

(Elihu Vedder: The Fates Gathering in the Stars)
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