Canto

Letter Full of Promises

A love letter full of promises. That's right. Have you ever had one? ... Well I have, and I'm gonna recite it to you. If you had one, you'd know just how I feel. And it goes like this.

Oh, darling do not now be lonely,
lonely anymore
I shall be the lover
Waiting at your door, oh love

Letter full of promises

Oh, dearest I shall be the moonlight
In the clear blue air
And the sparkling stardust
That will kiss your hair, oh love

Letter full of promises

Oh, sweetheart I shall be the sunshine
Calming down your fears
And the gentle breezes
Cooling off your tears, oh love

Letter full of promises

Honey, I shall be the shadow
Lying at your feet
Longing to embrace you
When again we shall meet

Darling, do not now be lonely
Lonely anymore
For I am here beside you
Here forevermore.

--"Teenager's Letter Of Promises" (1959), Juanita Rogers;
sampled by Ben Babbitt for Kentucky Route Zero, interlude "The Entertainment"

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Peat Bog on Jæren (1900). Kitty Kielland.
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In the very earliest time
When both people and animals lived on earth
A person could become an animal if he wanted to
and an animal could become a human being.
Sometimes they were people
and sometimes animals
and there was no difference.
All spoke the same language
That was the time when words were like magic.
The human mind had mysterious powers.
A word spoken by chance might have strange consequences.
It would suddenly come alive
and what people wanted to happen could happen—
all you had to do was say it.
Nobody could explain this:
That’s the way it was.

—Nalungiaq,
Inuit woman interviewed by ethnologist Knud Rasmussen in the early twentieth century.

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Everything you are not stares back at what you are.

The Mighty Dead: Why Homer Matters,
Adam Nicolson

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A LA POURSUITE DES ILLUSIONS, 1962.  Oil on canvas.
Louise Janin

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Easter. The grave clothes of winter

are still here, but the sepulchre
is empty. A messenger
from the tomb tells us
how a stone has been rolled
from the mind, and a tree lightens
the darkness with its blossom.
There are travellers upon the road
who have heard music blown
from a bare bough, and a child
tells us how the accident
of last year, a machine stranded
beside the way for lack
of petrol, is crowned with flowers.

—“Resurrection,”
R. S. Thomas

{via newsletter}

Here is an incomplete visual description of things that have no shape.

One. Death is a bottomless pool of clear water.

Two. Wind is a question mark.

Three. Morality is a thermos.

Four. Love is an over-full shopping bag with a broken handle.

Five. Fear is a cinderblock tower with a single door and no windows.

—Episode 148 "The Broadcaster",
Welcome to Night Vale

Vega nightfishes in the Great Sky River. Copyright © 2021

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