9/11
A preternaturally beautiful day that was. The butterflies on the 14th floor terrace as we looked south at the column of smoke. But today is rainy, humid, with a weird breeze that reminds us fall is coming.
Nurse, burp. Sleep. Poop. Pee. Change diaper. Nurse again. How can if be the same city? The same life? She knows nothing of that day. She is new. She has no history. That is why people come to see her.
No concern for efficiency here. A different rhythm. But lack implies less. This is not less but more. More fills up all the moments so they are seamless—not pages, but one long yarn of fabric.
Nurse, burp. Sleep. Poop. Pee. Change diaper. Nurse again. How can if be the same city? The same life? She knows nothing of that day. She is new. She has no history. That is why people come to see her.
No concern for efficiency here. A different rhythm. But lack implies less. This is not less but more. More fills up all the moments so they are seamless—not pages, but one long yarn of fabric.
Comments
Someone said the other day, while admiring Phoebe, that looking at a baby is hypnotizing, like staring into a fire.