…Full moon tonight: the full moon in the jungle will never be as goof as in the desert, whore, in the flat darkness, the moon’s height over a vast visible area shows how it totally dominates the land: here there is too much else too close by for the moon’s rays to spread out and grasp hole of everything firmly; it becomes a bright, intermittently visible (through drifting clouds and jungle canopy), surprisingly small ball (the desert full moon always surprised me by being so large); nevertheless it has its affects and adds a buoyancy, as if it were itself floating, something for us to grasp hold of, who are drowning in an ever-combustible sea of air, to grab hold of and pull ourselves out of it at last, and perhaps a less-than-full awareness of this makes one's steps lighter an’ higher, as if the inch difference will enable the fingertips to graze, scrape, perhaps rub sharply enough for a brief moment's pain, as it touches the bottom edge, calling for one real leap to be - on top…
You see? The moon does have its affect: when do I write this? It's not me that's writing, but the moon, Or is the air rarefied in the heights that a full moon pulls one to, creating a giddiness so that words rush out pell-mell…? I must stop now, or I shall never approach the subject for which I had intended this air-letter - but now there is no space left for that vast and weighty series of statements, ponderously bulky and immovable, possibly comprehensible, which I had intended to compose about the nature of communication. Ah, well…
No comments:
Post a Comment