'...back when poetry counted for something.'
is a line i just read that gets me to thinking that indeed there 'was' a time when poetry counted for something. so often i can feel a bit out of place enjoying immensely what seems to be 'pleasures of the past,' the written letter, spending hours simply talking with a friend, as h. and i did on tuesday (5 hours, even i couldn't believe it). not only travel, but thinking about travel quite often, buses, trains, ordering a bit of red wine on flight to europe. i love it. but then in connection, how to find the time?
watched dr. zhivago last night for the first time. i never watched it because i thought it was only a movie about war. i don't like war movies. so it's not only about war, not in the least. the complexity of human emotions as well as experiences, i'm thinking about now. how, though it is often portrayed as such, all is not simply black and white, but a series of various hues that keeps us frustrated, over joyed, confused and ecstatic, very often even at the same time.
a 17 year old young lady asked me 'why do i like/drink tea?' i was at a lost for words...
what a wonderful question! mais les mots m'échappe...
i'm hoping that you are having the kind of day that makes you smile.
