Words. Poems. Hands.
Susan wrote once about an experience I know well. Normally an avid reader, she went to a bookshop and alarmingly found nothing that appealed. Strange how this sometimes happens. I know by now not to fear that it will last. It never does. One day: nothing. Next visit: new treasures on every side; excited anticipation; must contain myself and not be too extravagant.
It’s the same with blogs (except that they’re FREEEE!!!). Long periods go by when I just keep reading and enjoying the same dear friends. Then suddenly I’ll find a whole load of new bloggers who I know at once will become well-loved, frequent ports of call. I recently mentioned a few new blogs I’m thrilled about. And I’ve also been finding, through happy, serendipitous links, some people who’ve been there all along - I should have known them and I didn’t, but I’m so glad I do now.
Just three for now. Through Moose, I found another fine poet, Stranger Ken. I haven’t really ever been a big reader of poetry. But just now I’m reading more poetry than anything, buying books, going to readings, and it’s all down to blogging poets like Dave, Ernesto, Leslee, Susan, and most recently Moose.
Then, because she linked to me and someone else linked to both of us, I found Adriana. She started blogging right when I did, and we have a lot of links in common, and I can’t think why I haven’t been reading her all along.
And today, I happened to click on Claude’s blogroll, and found L’Homme Qui Marche whom I knew at once I’d keep returning to. And, yes, look, of course he’s linked to some of my favourites - how enchanting and enchanted this international circle is. What drew me first was his post and PHOTO, Doigts, which reads, translated:
I was on the underground and I found the woman opposite me very beautiful, especially her hands. I took some photos of them, discreetly. Then she took a camera-phone out of her bag and took a photo of me. Exchange of smiles. No words spoken. She got off at “Place de Clichy” and I got off at “Liège”.