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November 08, 2009
From the Archives: Restlessness, 1974
Going through some files, I found this piece I wrote on March 21, 1974, when I was 16 years old. It has more than historical interest.
Restlessness
As I write this essay, I can look out the window onto the field between the school building and the street. I've looked out this window a thousand times and I will look through it again 10,000 times. The clouds keep rolling by with the wind, where from or where to or what for I cannot even guess.
Along the street seven cars, one truck camper and a single station wagon are parked. Again. I have no idea to whom they might belong.
So many things I do not know, and so many things that I see only on the surface. I go to school with 1,800 others. How many of them do I not know, or should know? Behind every face is a story, a long, unique story. How many of those stories do I know? How many know my story? I pass by people, like two fish in the ocean. Like the clouds drifting outside the window we neither know where to or where from or what for about each other, or even ourselves.
Van | 11/08/09 at 07:32 PM | Categories: Sensual pleasures
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Comments
Into this world, and why not knowing,
Nor whence, like water willy-nilly flowing:
And out of it, as wind along the waste,
We know not whither, willy-nilly blowing.
Fat Man ![[TypeKey Profile Page]](http://www.keshertalk.com/nav-commenters.gif)
| November 8, 2009 08:47 PM
