pinions of a white paper crane

“(…) for each of us there is some small sound like an unseen bird or a red bike grinding along the gravel path that could wake us, and take us home.”

The greatest and most important problems of life are all in a certain sense insoluble. They can never be solved, but only outgrown. This outgrowing, as I formerly called it, on further experience was seen to consist in a new level of consciousness. Some higher or wider interest arose on the person's horizon, and through this widening of view, the insoluble problem lost its urgency. It was not solved logically in its own terms but faded out when confronted with a new and stronger life tendency.

I took her in my arms and kissed her. The darkness and the sound of the rain enfolded us.

How do I know this? The dead fly in the windowsill told me, the grass pollen as it puffed into the air told me, a brass candlestick told me, a speck of grit. Everything remembers and speaks to those who will listen.