February 2011
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The Forgotten Dialect Of The Heart
How astonishing it is that language can almost mean,
and frightening that it does not quite. Love, we say,
God, we say, Rome and Michiko, we write, and the words
get it all wrong. We say bread and it means according
to which nation. French has no word for home,
and we have no word for strict pleasure. A people
in northern India is dying out because their...
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Amy Winehouse - Back to Black
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Nothing’s a Gift
Nothing’s a gift, everything is borrowed.
I’m drowning in debts up to my ears.
I will be forced
to pay for myself with myself,
to give my life for my life.
It has been appointed
that the heart must be returned,
and the liver, too,
and each individual finger.
It’s too late to cancel the contract.
Debts will be extracted from me
along with my...
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I said to God, “Let me love you.”
And he replied, “Which part?”
“All of you, all of you.” I said.
“Dear” God spoke, “You are as a mouse wanting to impregnate
a tiger who is not even in heat. It is a feat way
beyond your courage and strength.
You would run from me if I removed my mask.”
I said to God again,
“Beloved I need to love you – every aspect, every pore.”
And this time God said,...
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