From The Move, my current writing project...
How to fathom the poetic metaphors of our lives? Where does art come from? What layers of our being do images arise out of? And how do they reveal our lives in their unfolding, and in what ways are they prophetic? It seems as if we already know the truths of our interactions with each other, and she is not sure how that is.
Her life was an artwork where a collection of images had clung to her.
Sheath of feeling. Words groping to touch air.
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-oh, writing process- on Metaphor
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