Tasting Rhubarb
Since then other places have touched my heart, and I’ve gulped and blinked and not gone back, pushed them from my mind. There was a visit to France, especially, a few years ago. On the train back to Paris, still wrapped in a blanket of the cool, dreamy greens of that place, I fell into a deep cave of fear inside myself, terrified by so much wanting, such an impossible compulsion to embrace a landscape, cling to it, stay in it — a compulsion sure to be thwarted, and how would I bear that?
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This entry was posted Thursday, October 15th, 2009 at 10:59 pm and is filed under Smorgasblog. 
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