Footfall to the Nth degree equals Thunder. Such is the startling extent of my mathematical prowess. What I learn from this is that my writing is not of a loud, urban nature, and never will be. Everything is quiet and cushioned with moss. Where the acorn falls, an oak is allowed to grow. I am as old as the hills; a babe in arms; a satisfied smile after a bowl of warm soup. The world is going to hell in a hand basket, but it doesn’t faze me. When my turn comes, I will starve with the rest of the poor, those of us not ruthlessly heartless enough to steal everything we can, while we can, the law be damned. I will go on writing my fairy tales. Because, always, someone has to live. Someone has to court beauty, and keep her from giving up on us altogether.
~
[ 1959 ]
Categories: Annotations and Elucidations
William Michaelian 