Open to its inner map of color and texture, this dying tree on my street longs to tell its story. There, to the right, is its crackled, knowing eye. In the words of Shakespeare's Macbeth:
Stones have been known to move and trees to speak.
-- William Shakespeare, Macbeth, Act III, scene iv.
While searching for this quote, I got hooked on the vivid language and eagerly traveled on, arriving at the following familiar and beautiful passage several pages later:
Tomorrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow
Creeps in this petty pace from day to day,
To the last syllable of recorded time,
And all our yesterdays have lighted fools
The way to dusty death. Out, out, brief candle!
Life's but a walking shadow, a poor player
That struts and frets his hour upon the stage
And then is heard no more. It is a tale
Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury,
William Shakespeare, Macbeth, Act V, scene v.
And now, I suppose, it's time to revisit Faulkner's book and meander through those pages.
The photograph was taken 4/11/10 on my road. Click on image to enlarge.
At my desk
11 months ago