I'm hearing the F train between Church and Jay won't be working for a long, long time on the weekends. This Saturday in order to get to Manhattan I walked to the Grand Army 2/3 station through Prospect Park, walking the path that marks the margin of the forest to the right and the fields to the left. It was paradise. I saw lots of people out with their dogs and became aware of how much loneliness the dogs dissipate. Temporarily, anyway.
Loneliness, emptiness. Such strong winds. In our endless longing, we consume endlessly, and sometimes cannibalize essence. Some have learned to feed on air, finding that resonance and idea are as affective as matter. What do we know about imagination? A little, that it can go through the eye of the needle like the finest byss, a condensation trail of the essence of essences.
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