Wednesday, September 2, 2015
So what is the metaphor? The ceiling is coming down. Every surface and chachka I own needs to be wiped clean. There is no standing still or I will also be coated with white dust.
Granted, this is a first world problem... it is not as if I am rising from the rubble of Haiti, or even the recent Nepalese earthquake. The words of Dylan's song, "When I paint my Masterpiece", come to me...
"The Streets of Rome are filled with rubble... you can almost think you are seeing double....Someday everything is going to be different, when I paint my masterpeice..."
Yah. I feel that way now.