They met only for a moment in my mind, their sole and total world. I enveloped them in our shared air, I gave them life. For a moment. This floorboard creaks beneath my shoe, because the wood is warped, and that is the only reason. That mania for seeing in objects the image and likeness of other things, the determined search for proofs of indispensable relevance, the need for reassurance regarding the permanent discomfort of being in this place.
Objects require no scaffolding.
Stones do not sustain themselves by means of the worn-out imagery of the heart. An August afternoon. Even from this far away I can hear the noise of the sparkling River Raba. I do know that mother can feel and see the same as I do. And I know, know for certain that today as every evening we will take a long walk to the woods.