The Kiss

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  “Ryabovitch pulled the bed-clothes over his head, curled himself up in bed, and tried to gather together the floating images in his mind and to combine them into one whole. But nothing came of it. He soon fell asleep, and his last thought was that someone had caressed him and made him happy—that something extraordinary, foolish, but joyful and delightful, had come into his life. The thought did not leave him even in his sleep. When he woke up the sensations of oil on his neck and the chill of peppermint about his lips had gone, but joy flooded his heart just as the day before.” The Kiss By Anton Chekhov (1860–1904)

Timber-errrrr!

Anyone who has witnessed
the felling of a tall tree is left
with the definitive feeling of sadness.

As the saw rips through the heart of the giant,
it begins to sag down
on the side where the wound is gaping.

The tree begins to lean
away from the cutters,
but they continue their work--just a moment longer.

Then come the sounds:
the crack, crack, cracking of the wood fibers
in front of the saw teeth.

Another pass of the saw,
and the popping noise increases!
Those sounds! More rapid, then a continuous roar!

If you were standing nearby
you suddenly realize that everything above
is coming to earth.

The great mass starts to topple,
the popping and crackling and exploding sounds
burst from the base until with a fearful momentum,

the whole tree comes sprawling down.

Sometimes, we see a man come down like that.
He had stood out, so apparently strong before the entire world,
but the sappers were at his heart.

The supports were cut from under him
until he came crashing down
to the ground.

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