So much to know, so much already learnt! The heart sinks at the edge of the river: water churning on and on and never returning to me again. And when it does, when time returns and the past shines before my eyes, I avert my gaze, I look elsewhere, beyond and over the brow of the hill. For the lies are many and the consolations few and the soft, tender, vulnerable spot must be protected. 'The years shall run like rabbits, For in my arms I hold The Flower of the Ages, And the first love of the world.' W.H. Auden in "As I walked Out One Morning" The aborigine custom of painting the story of the way of creation upon bark remains a highly symbolic act to my imagination: I feel the inner space opening and calling to my hands: work harder, work more, continue to move on from one act to another until you reach the end and until all that you have to say has been made.
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