21 March 2008. Sun, à la Bonnard, just short and to the point. All thoughts saved for that tender blizzard of color hugging his one well-used plate. A palette, of sorts--alimentation, of the eye, where each precise new tone emerges in its flurry of ambiguity...until...
Yesterday: wandering the De Young. Metal expanse of meaninglessness, grates and grills, carapace of the armadillo--but where is the creature, the physical being, the twist of arm and torso geared to a knowing? All vanished in a hyperbole of innocent, insistent geometry. Will replacing would...
Then: a single Colima dog, dark red-brown clay, asleep now for 2300 years, paws tucked under chin, tail wrapped down around legs, just so--the characteristic open O, all life becoming, the handle of a cup, the lift of a glass...
A blessing, perhaps, or simply something everyday...
Purim...
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