a couple of days ago i came across the following poem from evelyn amber beltser , and was so moved i simply *had* to translate it: .ככה זה טוב ככה זה טוב - לא פחות ולא יותר יותר, יותר, יותר" - ההד של הקיבעון" - .משוטת במזדרונות של המוח ,אם הייתי בית מלון המזדרונות האלו היו הקומה הסגורה שלי .שהמעליות לא מגיעות עליה .בכל סרט אימה מכובד יש כזאת ,לפעמים אני חושבת שלמרות כל הקירבה אנחנו כל כך מרוחקים שאם התודעות שלנו היו כוכבים עדיין הייתי יושבת פה ומחכה לאור של אחרים להגיע that's good. that's good - no less and no more - "more, more, more" - an echo of fixation sails through the corridors of my brain. if i was a hotel, these corridors would be my sealed floor that the elevators wouldn't reach. every respectable horror movie has one. sometimes i think that despite all the proximity, we are so far away from each other that if our minds were the stars i would still be sitting here waiting for the light of others to arrive.
this just happened again - my cheeks still hurt from our laughing so much as i accused pg by reading this poem at her loudly and theatrically :D
ReplyDeleteit was only after we'd initially settled down that i realized that she was hiding more in her other hand. she claims that she was hiding them not because she doesn't want to share - but because she doesn't want me to see her eating so many marshmallows.