Sublime

I certainly believe we all suffer damage, one way or another. How could we not,except in a world of perfect parents, siblings, neighbours, companions? And then there is the question on which so much depends, of how we react to the damage: whether we admit it or repress it,and how this affects our dealings with others.Some admit the damage, and try

specter.

Yesterday we went to Isla Grande, the Grupa and I. I caught my first fish, a mackerel. Half an hour after its head had been bashed by the fisherman it momentarily thrashed about. I looked questioningly at him and he said, “Mucha vida, muy bueno”; like me in order to feel life I had to die a painfully unending death as well.

What, asks the parable, is the right thing to do at that moment, and the answer is to savor the berry. It’s a story suggesting that we are always mortal and might die sooner than we think: there are often tigers, there are sometimes strawberries.

Life will cook; the seas will rise. The planet’s lungs will be ripped out. And the law will let this happen, because harm was never imminent enough.

Je connaissais le risque, En mortel éprouvé ; Le soleil, comme un disque, Luit sur ma vie crevée.