Do You See?
Writer Tayari Jones quipped recently: “Why is train travel so romantic, even when you’re traveling alone?” We quipped back several responses. Ah, if only I knew it exactly in the heart of my heart. I think trains are us. Rushing little fools getting from place to place. But what gives, and what takes? It’s the rush that makes the sap in your heart well up.
Writing posts on this blog had become such a slow affair till about couple of months ago, rather tedious at times. When faced with people asking what happened to the blog, I’d almost hide. Some friends thought I had completely stopped. Some of them are delighted now I’m still jotting down thoughts; so they emailed me in approval.
You’re right, it’s Scotland, perhaps. It’s my little den and the lovely loch. It’s the host of very kind people around me. It’s also something I’ll never know for sure. Not knowing will keep me a little awake, in happy anxiety; it will also bring a sleep not easily earned. Okay, off with that blabber. I know my blogger friends want something more palpable. They’re staring at me, shaking their heads!
I’m looking at the London-Brighton-train ride photos that I clicked. I tried avoiding the touristic staple, instead getting some street life, ordinary acts of people, a whiff of things imperceptible. Well, somewhat. Although, these ones are very random. Will post an album later. CLICK on each photo for a screen view.
Here’s me at Brighton Beach, lapping up the coldish wind:
And we go shore cycling with family folks (excuse the wind-swept clumsiness):
My gorgeous friend Irmelin at Abbey Roads Studios:
My beautiful writer friends Sabi and Dan with me:
And a scene from East Coast rails on my way back to Stirling:
Tell me, how many of you read poetry everyday? I do it e-v-e-r-y-d-a-y. But I haven’t been posting much poetry here lately. This one sums up a lot of what I believe at the moment. I’m talking about technique, silly! The short lines, the wordplay, the gentle humour, the quiet persuasion of the syntax, and of course, the uncluttered yet clever metaphors. Also, the title: “Acts of Love”. Because one can’t define “act”, neither “love”. Yet, both the words conjoined by “of” constitute one whole. No, I’m not getting technical here. This is the only way I can say, look, it happens! Now, read:
“Acts of Love”
BY PAM REHM