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Hoses of the Holy in the Parallel Universe

December 07, 2005

Pretty

Bob's post immediately below, the corresponding talk of friends reunited and the thought of those ghosts got me to thinking.

It's these sort of little, very human, things that make me glad to be alive. They are also very moving sometimes. Maybe it's because I'm getting old. I dunno.

I rather like the idea of these events being frozen into the crystalline structure of the past. I like the fact that they are untouchable now, and distant: that you can't go back to how things used to be. You can't make amends with those people; tell them that you're sorry. Neither can you explain that you loved them all those years ago, nor say that in your darkest moments you still miss them. You can't even confess that sometimes you wonder where they are and how they're keeping.

The very fact that these things are so fragile, ephemeral, and insubstantial, makes them very very beautiful.

They're the little treasures over which we have custody for just a few moments before we have to leave.

Sparrows flying through the meadhall again.

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