13 11 04 – Moleskine (including handwritten note).
Arrival. Home? Home away from home. In a trance. Listening to ghost-like words from my son’s wisdoms:
Wenn eine Lügt dem glaubt man nicht auch wenn er dann die Wahrheit spricht.
I think of nature. What is her opposites? Religion? Politics? Humanity? Belief, love, hope? (Just thought I’d throw them in there.) And then back to nature. What about the belief, love and hope in animals. I wonder if they trust us. If they even can trust since it must be obvious to anything living other than the human mind how manipulated we are and therefore incapable of more than we are capable. Oh, the pleasure. The comfort. The category of possibility. Wait. I think of nature. And I have found her antithesis.
Rant on.
Tom
worstwriter 