Farmhouse, October 16, 2009
Internet make slow my words.
Apology.
Reiterate until recipient feel plus guilty than sender.
Marvel at this.
NEWS: It has been raining most of the week. I have been rained on. I have been the misser of many people, notwithstanding beautiful Verena in Deutschland. Being back here for so long lets me swap places with her, to stay for a month and see the changes in people and get attached to all these people that will leave eventually, to get to know Meira and Wildman so well, and then leave in the middle. This is difficult. I start long-distance relationships with all of them after, to keep our love breathing that we have birthed here.
But at the same time in my head as these thoughts, I feel and think about how I am becoming a part of this place, a limb on the Gesundheit! tree. Being able to paint anywhere, to leave trace after trace--this is a great freedom given to us here.
In other aspects of news-related items, we made our own juggling balls yesterday and I learned how to juggle. A few days ago we had a tie-dye workshop, also wonderful. Last week there was a talent show, where Meira, Erin, Laurel and I did the body percussion and singing to "Bring Me Little Water, Silvy," among face-painting, children's stories, animal noises, and the Hot Shit Fart Orchestra performance. Today, we visited the Marlinton hospital as clowns, and got a chance to entertain and have fun with the people there, staff and patient alike.
For people who asked, there will be pictures of all this on Facebook at the end, once I have better internets. Limited stuff on Flickr because of posting limits. For now, enjoy the slow steady stream of words and photo, as long as I remember to write.
Entering the last week with everyone is hard. I feel I have not talked to people here enough, and that the time has blurred together. It's hard to believe we've been here this long. But the time is not over yet, and friendships don't end with a loss a proximity. At least they don't have to.
Love,
-Caleb-
Friday, October 16, 2009
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Die uns scheiden, miß nicht die Meilen.
ReplyDeleteDie uns trennen, zähl nicht die Stunden.
Länder sind weit, Tage enteilen.
Wir bleiben verbunden.
(Erich Mühsam)