> >Each morning, I push all my insecurities out the door. I hear them > >milling on the porch, whispering, hissing, pushing. By late afternoon I > >go back downstairs and let them in. There's that poetic, Hoelderlin stuff noch ein mal. Makes no sense to me. If your uninvited insecurities are shown the door in the morning, why would you invite them back into your home in the afternoon? You should phone the police and have them arrested for loitering, I would think. Or are our insecurities somehow important to us and we dare not let them stray too far? As if we wouldn't be the persons we were without them and we don't dare be a different version of ourselves? Must run ... somebody knocking at the front porch door. Walter O. Snowed under on the Rock (But the Volvo starts first time every time.) > >Someone is inviting entries for a slim book of writings which meet > >certain specifications. They must be prose, they must be untitled and > >they must be exactly 31 words. Care to try? > > While doing an air study of a zinc mine cellhouse, as I watched the smoke > bomb tests, I realized I didn't need a weatherman to know which way the > wind blew. > > paul > > ########## > Paul Stone > pas@xxxxxxxx > Kingsville, ON, Canada > > ------------------------------------------------------------------ > To change your Lit-Ideas settings (subscribe/unsub, vacation on/off, > digest on/off), visit www.andreas.com/faq-lit-ideas.html > ------------------------------------------------------------------ To change your Lit-Ideas settings (subscribe/unsub, vacation on/off, digest on/off), visit www.andreas.com/faq-lit-ideas.html