We
are sitting in our friends' back garden as I sketch, catching up
on their news; on some sad stories of family life: a baby grandson's
continuing fight with an illness, the collapse of a son-in-law's
once thriving business and another young relative's fight with cancer.
I see our dreams and fortunes reflected in the sky. We might each
have a self-image of ourselves as essentially unchanging - just
as from a casual glance at any given moment you might assume that
each cloud was as reasonably permanent fixture, like a blob off
cotton wool dangling on the end of a thread - but we too are natural
systems in a state of flux. Not as transitory as the clouds, thank
goodness, but we're constantly in a state of change.
That's life though; we're not set in stone
- thank goodness for that too!
They
fly so high,
Nearly reach the sky,
Then like my dreams
They fade and die.
Fortune's always hiding,
I've looked everywhere,
I'm forever blowing bubbles,
Pretty bubbles in the air.
I'm Forever Blowing Bubbles
(1919)
Jaan Kenbrovin and William Kellette
Previous Page
We
are sitting in our friends' back garden as I sketch, catching up
on their news; on some sad stories of family life: a baby grandson's
continuing fight with an illness, the collapse of a son-in-law's
once thriving business and another young relative's fight with cancer.
I see our dreams and fortunes reflected in the sky. We might each
have a self-image of ourselves as essentially unchanging - just
as from a casual glance at any given moment you might assume that
each cloud was as reasonably permanent fixture, like a blob off
cotton wool dangling on the end of a thread - but we too are natural
systems in a state of flux. Not as transitory as the clouds, thank
goodness, but we're constantly in a state of change.
They
fly so high,
