Saturday, September 25, 2010

Lonesome Oak

More than twenty acres, on the west side of the hill. Many a spectacular sunset over the mighty Columbia in the early fall. A cedar log lodge at the top …

The design not atypical of something inspired by recovery from the unprecedented economic downturn. And too, its land carried a tragic story.

Fitting that the keys were lost frequently, as if to say, "The fun of exploring should never stop even if you have to embellish it a bit with mindless repetition."

An unfinished tune because the hands were to small? Did the tragedy's remnants propagate through several generations because the song was not complete?  Frankly, it is why the plural seems more appropriate than the singular, but it is still possible there is but one key.

"The hilly terrain of a poor man's campground central to the dream. As if the antagonist had blown in on the wind, never having known agency outside directing by myth. But the myth pushes back."

Give it a fancy name - it still means … the same. More important than anything, yes anything. What is it then? The object of obsession, nothing more and nothing less.

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