Wednesday, June 8
THE VANISHING WORLD It's said that people tend to believe God believes what they believe. When I was young I loved to get up before every dawn of the world, still sweetly baffled by the possibility of unbelief. Perhaps grace is not so poor a thing that it can't also appear in this instance like a new definition of luck, akin to tiny blossoms out of cactus thorns in spring, their loneliness crushing your lungs. Isn't everything sloughed from the same star? What is believable and possible, what is acceptable and what is nothing? Caught between the old and new year, why do you think that the old will be famous for its pain, the new from the liberation from pain? Some kind of belief still runs off me in strings; to enjoy the clarifying effect of participation without remainder may be the most mysterious thing. When I come to the right place, I believe I'll paint a door on it and walk right through. (Sandra Lim)