jeudi, octobre 13

word of the day

when i grow up i want to be a propheciographer. i want to walk the earth, recording the predictions of madmen (and women), children, and old people. i want to cast the future in rhythm and ink - stand at the edge of a cliff, tearing my parchment to shreds and let the wind take my words away. that way, someday, you'll be standing on your front porch, and a scrap of paper will scatter across the walk, with the leaves and a plastic wrapper from a cigarrette package. you'll stoop down, pick it up, and understanding will overwhelm your heart. you'll send the page back into the atmosphere, turn inside, and sip tea, thinking of me.