4/12/07
Sad I am, and happy too, for Mr. Kurt Vonnegut. He was our patron saint of Irony. It might well have been called Vonnegut. I have poured a glass of whiskey.
Writers – do they give shape to things we need words for, or make shapes for us to pour ourselves into? Is that the same thing? And yet again I am brought to wonder about what awaits us when our eyes close for the last time.
Godspeed, Kurt Vonnegut.
2 comments:
May I ask you
to please click on the photo of Kurt running with his dog down the beach.
Is it just me? Look at the bulletlike trajectory of that little dog.
Look at Kurt Vonnegut watching - appreciating - that wonderful little dog.
This is a pure thing.
I thank you, little dog, and every dog that runs with such pure joy.
I love this picture! I wonder who took it.
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