Running jokes end eventually. Here ends one, on the turn of a page and the close of the dying light as the Joads continue about their way across the United States of Depression.
As a gift from the wife, it's a solid choice to return back into the realm of prose. Where stories and landscapes unfold only in the mind as the words take to creating the tapestry of worlds and faces.
Plight of the family takes hold, and the grip never loosens. Travails and travels from one side of the country to the other is of a remarkable endurance. Dynamics are solid, the family hold one another in the respect of each other, they don't let each other become one another with the look of a sameness. They know who they are.
Removal comes every now and then, watching the swathe and swagger of the land and its people go about their lives. Of conversations in whisper and rolling in the winds. Separation counts for something, and the feeling in this case is that the pause between is reflections of such resolve and the resolution to soldier on despite the encroaching clouds of black and dark grey.
Clear and rhythmic, an ease to digest with the passing of the dust kicking up nostrils to block out with a heavy dose of the uncertain. That is, after all, part of the game in riding high and blind from the home and into the wilds of wherever, looking for a life, any kind of life, beyond that of death.
Friday, 22 June 2007
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Elemunk scrambles the loose connections bouncing about the mind of Soon Van.
Feel free to ask questions on any topic. Or spend some quality killswitch time poking about reading the vintage synapses
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Objects in mirror may be closer than they appear