Here’s to the final act of Covid-19, yes?
For the most part, I believe people have come to the silent consensus that the remnants of the pandemic are permanent, and have created an environment we will learn to live with.
I meant to spend more of those early times of quaratine writing, in any form, but I was taken away by work and forced deep into the studies of Arabic etymology, historicity, sociology…some niche study of something other.
I had resurfaced, finally, only to realize that the previous blog site I’d created was no longer accessible to me. If I wanted to assume more responsibility than the passive voice, I’d say I thoughtlessly deleted the email connected with account, whilst purging a few of my older archives.
(It was an email name I had recreated when I was a preteen; that old, tired story.)
This was my favorite place.
But. I have wallowed enough for the loss, now I must shake off the dust and continue on. Toni Morrison, when she accepted the Nobel Peace Prize for Literature in 1993, contended Lincoln’s famous words, that ,”the world will little note, nor long remember, what we say here.”
She insisted, rather, that writers – truth tellers – have the capability and responsibilty not to be forgettable. To work ever harder at approaching what is deemed ineffable because langauge is fluid and adapts to its weilder, and whereever there is an indescribable thing, we can fill it with language until it becomes a new phrase, a new song.
There are things that must be said and remembered. At least, I think so. And so I return to the work.
twf.
The-Bleu-Bivouac 