l(a
l(a
le
af
fall
s)
one
liness
l(a
le
af
fall
s)
one
liness
- Leaves Expanded May Be Prevailing Blue Mixed With Yellow Of The Sand
- I Used To Wonder At The Halo Of Light Around My Shadow And Would Fancy Myself One Of The Elect
- Fearing That They Would Be Light-headed For Want Of Food And Also Sleep
- Stirring Them Up As The Keeper Of A Menagerie His Wild Beasts
- The Finest Qualities Of Our Nature Like The Bloom On Fruits Can Be Preserved
- Perhaps The Wildest Sound That Is Ever Heard Here Making The Woods Ring Far And Wide
- I Love To Be Alone
- A Young Forest Growing Up Under Your Meadows
- Their Roots Reaching Quite Under The House
- The Rays Which Stream Through The Shutter Will Be No Longer Remembered When The Shutter Is Wholly Removed
- After Soaking Two Years And Then Lying High Six Months It Was Perfectly Sound Though Waterlogged Past Drying
- The Sun Is But A Morning Star
- A Low And Distant Sound Gradually Swelling And Increasing
- As If It Would Have A Universal And Memorable Ending
- A Sullen Rush And Roar
It is thought-provoking that this sense of estrangement and detachment is often evoked by the technologically most advanced settings, such as hospitals and airports.
The modern city produces its own style of getting lost, rooted in its special form of alienation. Here, the crowd, while it can be protective, is also a medium for both erasing individuality and homogenizing experience, for making us disappear.
Once, I had a dream of fame.
Generally, even then I was lonely.
To the castle, a sign must have said.
Somebody is living on this beach.
There are no shortcuts to the investment of time and care in friendship and human bonding, and it is fraudulent to pretend otherwise. When human loneliness becomes a source of income for others through devices, we'd better stop and think a bit about the place of human needs in the real world of technology.
This is an essay about why you might want to give being alone a try.
Islands are possible only in literature. Topical islands are in a time without History. They are paragraphs. They are not part of the central body of the text. Isloated writing is always a testimonial. The castaway embodies the contradiction of beieng a speaker without a society.
She came in the next class with a puzzled look and handed him a five-thousand-word essay on the front of the Opera House on the main street of Bozeman, Montana. “I sat in the hamburger stand across the street,” she said, “and started writing about the first brick, and the second brick, and then by the third brick it all started to come and I couldn’t stop. They thought I was crazy, and they kept kidding me, but here it all is. I don’t understand it.”
Neither did he, but on long walks through the streets of town he thought about it and concluded she was evidently stopped with the same kind of blockage that had paralyzed him on his first day of teaching. She was blocked because she was trying to repeat, in her writing, things she had already heard, just as on the first day he had tried to repeat things he had already decided to say. She couldn’t think of anything to write about Bozeman because she couldn’t recall anything she had heard worth repeating.
She was strangely unaware that she could look and see freshly for herself, as she wrote, without primary regard for what had been said before. The narrowing down to one brick destroyed the blockage because it was so obvious she had to do some original and direct seeing.