Depth is acquired by struggle and by looking way beyond ourselves. Few great artists or writers didn’t first take a severe beating. “One Day in the Life of Ivan Denisovitch” by Solzheinitsyn describes an almost unfathomable existence — at the end of the day, Ivan lies in bed recounting the day’s great occurances of luck. I realize that I’m hearing nervous chatter, but a pin prick from a phlebotomist is not a trial. I know you read the newspaper.
February 26, 2007
Coles Blvd to the Hospital in Portsmouth, Ohio
Leave a Comment »
No comments yet.