Monday, October 02, 2017

The relative place of it

One broadcasts oneself as well as one can, though there can be too much of it. They’ve been predicting the demise of letters since a few days after they started. Waves cross the planet putting faces on every screen and voices in every speaker, while the slow reduction to language plods on, a marvel of inefficiency. These days speak for themselves, I’ll not compare them to others I found more comfortable. I speak only on behalf of friends; there weren’t any so close as those who appeared on paper. What remains now for these flags of truce, sent forth uncertainly into the world, but to see who wants peace, and how many?