Monday, August 19, 2013

Mountain fastness.

We are all remote as far-off mountain tops. At first I thought I should be grieving this, but it just wouldn't take. The sadness, I mean. We are all alone together. This is the seed of all melancholy, the blues, art. It works, somehow, if you don't try to cover it up or suppress it. If you can merge with it, then... Well done, you!

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