“It wasn’t where they belonged, necessarily. It was just where they ended up.”
Alleman witnessed the Gettysburg Battle first hand at age 15. Twenty-five years later she wrote down her recollection of those bloody days of war. This is how she introduced her account.
I’m trying to make use of what I already have during my (s)low buy, and a big part of the whole complex, multi-prong effort involves catching my “read” pile up to my “bought” pile of books.
For my birthday last month, I received a copy of David Sedaris’s Calypso along with a 1000 piece puzzle made up of cartoon dogs. What can I say, some folks know me real darn well.
For Christmas I received the complete set of the Harry Potter series, a dear favorite of Mini’s.
Last October I received The Professor and the Madman as a present. I’ve recently finished it, so here are, the last lines:
What is a life? A series of yeses and noes, photographs you shove in a drawer somewhere, loves you think will save you but that cannot. Continuing to move, enduring, not stopping even when there is pain. That’s all life
Recently our block had a neighborhood cookout, and I found out one of my neighbors is actually a children’s book author/illustrator. This was incredibly exciting for me, as I’ve been mulling over an idea for a children’s book since a
In the beginning there was a river. The river became a road and the road branched out to the whole world. And because the road was once a river it was always hungry.
It is, thus, discontinuities, the great discontinuities in life, that we seek to bridge, or reconcile, or integrate, by recollection, and, beyond this, by myth and art.