michael ondaatje's narrative

May 07, 2006 13:17

Still, today it is water who is the stranger here. Water is the exile, carried back in cans, and flasks, the ghosts between your hands and your mouth.

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benooligan May 8 2006, 05:13:59 UTC
That's a huge sandbox. Reminds me of cats, and that reminds me of a poignant William Carlos Williams poem about a cat on a fridge.

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