Friday, November 8, 2013

Tea and Oranges, That Come All the Way From China

You're going about your day and then you hear about someone else and their journey has ended. And it makes you think about your own odyssey, because as dramatic as that word sounds, it is an odyssey. And all that thinking makes you want to escape and yet you're too clever for that, but you try anyway. You look for it in words, in music, in people, in images. You might feel guilty for wanting to escape because you associate it with all the ways you used to destroy things. Finally, you give in and let yourself escape, because it's okay. And the work can wait and the odyssey will still be there tomorrow or in an hour. 

And this is where I want to escape to...

(Side note: Even Leonard Cohen knows the plague of the "writer's contract.")

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