Posts Tagged: Julia
Julia drew one building after the other while the kids sat on the low wall. She disappeared in the calle and returned after an hour. Sorry I made you wait, Julia said eventually. Let’s go, said Beth, and everyone followed
There were days when summer heat made Julia feel bloodless. Only Gaia’s efforts would force her out of bed and in the streets looking and drawing maps. One summer morning they woke up at dawn and took the FishTrain to
Where are they going? They take passengers to Shelter Island, said Julia. At night? They have lanterns. What is the color of the sea at night? Black, as the sky. How are they going to find their way? They
We decode life and call it science. We encode our findings and call them stories, said Frank. Stories are how we understand. Julia kept drawing in her notebook the bat hanging from the ceiling of the attic while Gaia sat on the
Ekaterina danced tirelessly in the FishTrain halls, days and nights, alone and in front of hundreds, in summer and winter to a music she alone heard. Looking at her Julia heard the music too.
Gaia spoke again from memory, her words mysterious and fascinating to Julia. Whoever cannot seek the unforeseen sees nothing, for the known way is an impasse.
Upon those who step into the same rivers, different and again different waters flow, said Gaia. Julia listened quietly, her eyes focused on the candle’s dancing flame.