Why do I keep so clean, like all the other
animals? Why do I worry

if the children lie too thickly
dreaming their dreams, in a heavy sleep
like fog I write so much
on the inside of my brain
that I forget what it was
that I wanted to tell you. But
through the open door, warm
white rose petals blow in.

Kathleen Spivack, from “I Want to Tell You”
Art Credit Lee Grant

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    I return to HK this evening, from Oz—and somehow, this unrelated photo seems as apt as any to reflect the strange truth...
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