Tuesday, October 13

"I live in a well. I live like smoke in the well. Like vapor in a stone throat. I don't
move. I don't do anything but wait. Overhead I see the cold stars of night and
morning, and I see the sun. And sometimes I sing old songs of this world when it was
young. How can I tell you what I am when I don't know? I cannot. I am simply
waiting. I am mist and moonlight and memory. I am sad and I am old. Sometimes I
fall like rain into the well. Spider webs are startled into forming where my rain falls
fast, on the water surface. I wait in cool silence and there will be a day when I no
longer wait."
 - Ray Bradbury
The One Who Waits

  • ". . . as I have said often enough, I write for myself in multiplicate,
    a not unfamiliar phenomenon on the horizon of shimmering deserts."
    - Vladimir Nabokov