Monday, March 06, 2017

Lassitude

(1949)

The not-so-very-distant past, if you stare until your eyes lose focus, and imagination enters along with light, begins to appear as if it had been delicately etched into metal plates, perhaps in the eighteenth century. 

That fisherman will never straighten his back or roll his shoulders to ease his aching muscles. He will never catch the fish which hang unmoving in liquid which has congealed into glass. The trees will never stir and rustle their leaves in a breeze. The clouds will never release a drop of rain, nor block the heat of a sun which will never set. Nothing moves, not even the reflections in water which must surely have been lapping at the shore just a moment ago. Lassitude. 

(Please see also my post explaining the context of this photograph, one of my earliest:  at this link)

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Anonymous wrote:

So I have just seen lassitude. Reminded me instantly of Keats' ode on grecian urn

https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems-and-poets/poems/detail/44477

The significant difference is that Keats' readers do not see the Grecian urn but you are describing in most lyrical prose an actual photograph of an actual scene taken by an actual you.

Awesome.

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