…. in the streams in the mountains. You could see them standing in the amber current where the white edges of their fins wimpled softly in the flow. They smelled of moss in your hand. Polished and muscular and torsional. On their backs were vermiculite patterns that were maps of the world in its becoming. Maps and mazes. Of a thing which could not be put back. Not be made right again. In the deep glens where they lived all things were older than man and they hummed of mystery.
Source: Cormac McCarthy, The Road
Inky’s Take: That stream rushes by behind the cabin that has been my permanent, temporary home in the mountains. I have sat out back and listened to the rushing water and wondered about bottles, notes, and little boy’s sailboats bobbing by on the gray water. This time, this past year, has filled something inside me that I’d forgotten. That was long empty. The trees have whispered to me, the wind blown the detritus away, and the nights filled with twinkling lights upon the mountains has restored my imagination. Breathing new life into stories of wee folk, and monsters long forgotten, and now resurrected. I love it here….
….I would tell you what you want to know if I could, for you have been kind to me. But I am a cat, and no cat anywhere ever gave anyone a straight answer.
Source: Peter S. Beagle
Inky’s Take: I just *love* the picture and the quote. Had to share.
Hearts grow hard and weary. Pain spreads, and joy diminishes. Those who hated you hate you still, but those who loved you, or would have loved you, or wanted to love you but never had the chance, are being scraped hollow by a loss they don’t understand. Come home. Please come home. We are withering without you.
Source: Bruce Coville
Inky’s Thoughts: So, I’ve been traveling.
Not the kind that was filled with relaxation, partying, Glenlivet, lots of free time to sight see, shop, and enjoy the company of new and fascinating folk. No, this travel included a huge business contract that required long days, late hours, and weekends spent trying to catch up on sleep so my brain would spark on Mondays.
It also included a tussle with a brown recluse spider that put me out of action for three weeks, hospitalized – far, far from the comfort of, well, anyone.
Things are looking up. A well deserved two week vacation is beckoning with curled fingers and a siren’s song. My muse has been nagging me relentlessly, my fingers itching to write something more than proposals, and professional emails. I consider it a date.
I hope the Muse Cat continues to purr, the Glenlivet bottle never empties and my computer isn’t going to give me trouble for being away so long…