When I was what I thought was little— although now you sit SATs at this age,six or seven — I ran a field with my brother.(Yes, now show me those left free to run a field.)It was a morning, and I remember it as if it were yesterday.Today, he said, he might not talk again,
The passage from the field to the measured garden stayed with me. Sometimes it feels as if we are not losing words but space, and that every lost word is a piece of field we no longer cross.
The passage from the field to the measured garden stayed with me. Sometimes it feels as if we are not losing words but space, and that every lost word is a piece of field we no longer cross.