Monday, November 12, 2012
It's just me and the words Gabo wrote...
Then I get to Monolgue of Isabel Watching it Rain in Macondo.
It's a steady drip-drip, just like the rain. I want to take a nap. Like when it's raining.
I worry about that poor cow ... that could not fall down because the habit of being alive prevented her ... And really, like Isabel, I never thought the woman ... asking, every Tuesday, for the eternal branch of lemon balm ... would make it through the deluge. But she did. And then there was the sick woman who'd ... disappeared from her bed and had been found floating that afternoon in the courtyard.
So who fell in the well?
I don't know. But I feel like I finally get IT.
The Leaf Storm. The leaf trash. Macondo.
The awareness glows inside me like a smile.
I don't have a degree in English.
I am not sitting in some classroom.
There is not a blackboard within reach, sight, or walking distance.
The professor is at the university. Not here, in my room.
No, it's just me and the words Gabo wrote.