This post is dedicated to my dear friend and the talented composer, ellen o.
After a treacherous winter and a fantastic first year at the new school, I'm looking forward to getting back into good habits. This spring I've been trying to *do* more and *read* less, but this plan usually amounts to me watching TV in bed, although I have read some great titles and have discovered new writing. After reading an article in The New Yorker a few months back, I'm most excited about exploring more Lydia Davis. Here's a sneak peak:
LOST THINGS by Lydia Davis
They are lost, but also not lost but somewhere in the world. Most of them are small, though two are larger, one a coat and one a dog. Of the small things, one is a certain ring, one a certain button. They are lost from me and where I am, but they are also not gone. They are somewhere else, and they are there to someone else, it may be. But if not there to someone else, the ring is, still, not lost to itself, but there, only not where I am, and the button, too, there, still, only not where I am.
They are lost, but also not lost but somewhere in the world. Most of them are small, though two are larger, one a coat and one a dog. Of the small things, one is a certain ring, one a certain button. They are lost from me and where I am, but they are also not gone. They are somewhere else, and they are there to someone else, it may be. But if not there to someone else, the ring is, still, not lost to itself, but there, only not where I am, and the button, too, there, still, only not where I am.
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