Ariel had mixed thoughts:
The broken century
And the erotics of the paradoxical;
The intimate delusions
And a light, innocuous pretense
Set against the still more fabulous impostors;
The smallest will, beating its wings
Against the cage of space–
These had all become familiar
And unexceptional. We live them,
Live in and through them.
Strangeness lay in ordinary moments
Placed against a background
–Is there another word for “eternity”?–
Of the impersonal: curved space
Foaming with brief particles
As you leave the room.John Koethe – The New Yorker, May 8, 2000, p. 72.
Art is “After Moebius” by *Andrew-Ross Maclean on DeviantART.