A picture of a mountain isn’t a mountain. So with a river, a flower, and those we hate and love. Memory, too, is a kind of picture, as are words. The word mountain isn’t a mountain. But to show each other our pictures, we climb mountains and mountains of words. The memory of something that happened isn’t the happening. Maybe that’s one reason we keep fighting wars. Genocide in books and on film doesn’t reek of the corpse. A word, too, is a kind of corpse — startled and startled and startled again into a picture of life. Resurrection is a word. So is strife. A picture of a galaxy isn’t a galaxy. A galaxy can’t fit on our computer screens. Our lives, too, are galaxies. And so we pass in the night.
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Categories: A Few More Scratches
Tags: Be Here Now, Computers, Flowers, Galaxies, Genocide, Happenings, Hate, Love, Meaning, Memory, Mountains, Pictures, Rivers, Stars, War, Words
William Michaelian 
So vieles lässt sich mit Worten nahe bringen, unsere Fantasie bekommt oft Flügel – ein Berg, den ich niemals erklimme..
Doch über uns, das Sternenzelt ist da, ist wirklich – und doch auch so weit weg…
Mein Kopf glüht grad, nimmt deine Gedanken auf und tiefes Nachdenken macht sich breit…
Einen guten Freitag, dir, lieber Freund…
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And a beautiful day to you, Edith. Thanks as always for your kind and patient reading.
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