Monday, April 11, 2011

Meta-lect 66 (Sirirí colorado)



11 April 2011. The march of time. But wait, it's April...

Such a pun, on a Monday morning--late, now, gray layer of clouds after first bright rays. But let's not read this psychologically. For all days are gray. As with the fan painting on the back shelf at Mythos, yesterday evening. Finely worked, on silk--presence of the Chinese past, rendered here in a few strokes of gray-black ink, the hills and sky, water below, mankind's bridge, smaller, and off to the left. Peaceful, but not without a certain gravitas. As always, when one recalls the Southern Sung--bitter times to the north, invaders, warring clans. Flight and refuge, a life re-built, in the image of a life before...

Valiant melancholy...

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