"There is a moment in Our town where Emily, newly dead asks the stagemenager. A paraphrase for lack of research material: "Does anyone ever realize the beauty of life when it happenes?" And he relpies, "No, saints and artists and poets maybe." I wondered as I stood and watched people cry and cling to one another on one moment then spin and stomp and scream in the next if they realize. How beautiful that kind of connection is. You can never see it from the inside. Only in hindsight and from without. I dipped into it a little unable to resist. But I am grown aware and see possible crisis in every smile and sip of whiskey. So I watched."
PCOL Comment: This is your best post. Keep writing. BTW - the correct quote is "saints and poets, maybe"
East Timor Peace Corps Volunteer "T.T. Lyre" says: Artists and poets maybe
Artists and poets maybe.
I stood amazed at the beauty. I have been overwhelmed with the scenery here with the beaches and the granduer of the mountains with the contrast between rich and poor and with the rushed reality of hunger and anger. But last night. 54 people were told that they were going home. That we are going home. The plane was coming at 5am. And they yelled and they sobbed and they drank and they danced. I wanted to be sober for each moment of this insane pace. It has been long since I wished I had been born with no eyelids and with no capacity for rest. I watched sentinel. I could not drink, I've grown too uptight in my age and protectiveness. I asked myself what if something happens tonight who among these will speak will stand and be able to explain. So I watched and joined when I could. The selves thery put away ten months ago came out as of they had never been put away and the light that we have to sheild in the precense of another culture poured forth.
There is a moment in Our town where Emily, newly dead asks the stagemenager. A paraphrase for lack of research material: "Does anyone ever realize the beauty of life when it happenes?" And he relpies, "No, saints and artists and poets maybe." I wondered as I stood and watched people cry and cling to one another on one moment then spin and stomp and scream in the next if they realize. How beautiful that kind of connection is. You can never see it from the inside. Only in hindsight and from without. I dipped into it a little unable to resist. But I am grown aware and see possible crisis in every smile and sip of whiskey. So I watched.
Some time during the night Sash wandered up. She is wise in a way I have forgotten. She stared at me and staggered. "Do you think they know how much we love them?" She asked leaning heavily on the table. That is an outsider question. And I am an outsider. So I shrugged. Because I didn't want to connect that way. But people found me. Sought me out in my quiet corner. Talked and told the truths those drunk on emotiuon connot hold in And I think maybe they do. Next Subject T.T. Lyre
