I am finally getting around to reading Words Without Borders, a collection of 28 works of literature never before published in English. My younger nephew gave it to me a couple of years ago at Christmas.
One of the works is from “Experiment with India” by Giorgio Manganelli. In it the narrator poses this question: How long ago did we lose the art of making our dreams solid?
This question intrigued me, but it presupposes that one has a dream. And unlike Martin Luther King Jr, I do not. I have long had dreams of having a dream, but only through alchemy could such gossamer precursors be transformed into solid matter. And so, like the ducks in the park* that paddle through shallows created by heavy rains, I am able to entertain only fleeting notions before they seep into sodden graves.*
*The park in question—officially McBurney Park, but known to locals as Skeleton Park—used to be a cemetery.
Oh Helen. This is a wonderful little masterpiece. Brava!
ReplyDeleteBeautifully said as always, and I, too, have no dreams to speak of.
ReplyDeleteOMG, I can so relate to this. Beautifully written. It reminds me of a class I took on liberation theology, during which the instructor asked "How old were you when you learned to stop asking questions?"
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