It's the morning of the world. How will you spend it? Go on a journey to experience it all-friends, parents, ancestors, lovers. Above all, the unknowable self. Your journey is made of words, imprecise but paradoxically triumphant, precise but at the same time disappointing, the journey of language that never quite reaches the Promised Land, only-if you're lucky-lets you look over from the other side. Words are the tools and the materials constructing the human tragedy, the human glory. At the end of the journey, arrive at a place of rest and thanks.
Related Subjects
Poetry