Alice Randall drove along a desolate road amid the soaked barren wheat fields of northern Kansas. Stands of bare trees separated neighboring properties. Every so often, she would spot hunters in orange vests wandering over the dark wet soil. When she reached Masonville, she took a brief tour of the town to see what had […]
In Shakespeare: The Invention of the Human, Harold Bloom argues that Shakespeare did more than just shape the structure and content of the English language—he created human nature as we understand it today. As James Shapiro explains, “Shakespeare remains so popular and his most memorable characters feel so real because through them Shakespeare invented something that hadn’t
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A poem on the wind lands wherever it’s taken, whether in your thoughts or mine, or on the dry red soil, glittering in the summer heat. I can see the last of the species scribbling away in a fevered dream as the sun burns the ground, furnace in the lungs, vivid colors flooding the mind,
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Just keep moving, across the open field and into the woods. Don’t look back until you reach the sea. Run until your lungs are ready to burst and every nerve shoots red-hot fire through your lost body, the soft sand under your feet, the salty air welcoming you home to the only place you understand,
Other people’s views and intentions are hidden to us. We can only infer what they are. Through these inferences, we invent an interconnected web of meaning that can only be understood as a dream mirroring whatever reality extends beyond our powers of perception.
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The world I have come to know is just an artificial display of holographic shapes gliding across my line of sight and disappearing into nothingness, tedious reflections in a dull mirror. But every so often, someone comes along who is dramatically different, a living, breathing person, warm, radiant, true, and connected to my inner experience.