Day 34-36: smidgins of joy
The weight of sadness buries some smidgins of joy.
The title of this post is taken from Endymion by John Keats, referenced in this post on melancholy.
The thing about a sculpture is that we all see it from a different angle, and might see it in colours different from the ones intrinsic to the stone from which it is hewn.
The news of the untimely death of a translator friend suddenly transforms him into a statue.
But what is the statue of? Your guess is as good as mine, but I daresay I see it differently to many of you. So be it.
Farewell, my friend.
©2019 Allison Wright
So true, Allison. None of us can see everything.
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