To the Editor:
Some time ago, I began to write you letters with the idea of helping your newspaper become a more complete map of our little shared world. But as my work progressed doubts began to take shape.
In the beginning I made microscopic descriptions of architectural features and furniture. Then I began to include people, their personae and activities.
Then I realized that even though I am making this map I am part of it in the same way as the box scores and photographs of roller derby queens, advertisements for hardware stores and stories about distant forest fires.
Completeness is an unattainable goal.
At night when the ceilings are galaxies of shadows I think about seahorses swimming past scallops shells in shower-curtain oceans.
Somewhere there is a photograph of my father standing in a field of corn. I remember the photograph. Not the field. Not the corn. Not the father.
I am full of holes.
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If only that section of the paper could be so good. *
Makes me want to write a letter. It really does. I will.
Inspirational and damn good, this is. *
Well yes. I like it. Those are perfect closing paragraphs.
Fav line: "At night...I think about seahorses swimming past scallops shells in shower-curtain oceans."
Nice. *
thanks very much for the reads, lovely comments and faves.
jd: write the letter & post it. you never know.
Neat. The ideas you put down are akin to poetry in the way they open up other ideas.
oooh, this is quite perfect, you know. from the mundane title/beginning down to the final confession.
marcus---thanks very much for the read and such a lovely compliment.
jon--thanks for reading. i'm pleased that you enjoyed the piece & the way it operates.
This is beautiful writing.
"At night when the ceilings are galaxies of shadows I think about seahorses" <-- I want to lick that bit like ice cream.
Yes, Stephen. Very yes.
*
@ frankie...thanks for the read and lovely comment. i like ice cream too.
@ bill: thanks for reading and the comment. as a fan of your work, i always appreciate your observations.
this rocks.*