Image: © Arthur Browne
I’ve travelled half a world to this point. We sit here in silence beside the memory pool.
My mind casts back to those hot languid days last summer where in the sweltering heat we lay about listening to old Dylan music and you told me the meaning of each song, sang along with the nasally warbler as he laboured his way through songs I knew others had done so much more justice to.
You never ceased to surprise me by knowing his thoughts, his motivations for writing what he did. How did you know that stuff?
Again in the winter with the wind howling outside we sat huddled before the fire discussing the reasons why some art works are art in your opinion and some are mere drawings, photographs with little to no artistic merit.
In keeping with the weather that night our conversation was chilly to say the least, arguing long into the night the futility of my argument and the merits of your own.
Now in the quiet of this pond, I meditate on all that has past and wonder why I am still with you. As I look about the trees stand tall, the gentle breeze rustles the leaves, the sounds of nature echo around me and I like this brief moment of tranquillity before I am sure you’ll begin discussing aesthetics.
serenity abounds in nature
a moment of quiet