And then there is me, sad little me, living in a dream, staring out the window, never again to find love.
I am not a stupid woman. I am aware that there is a world out there that functions without regard to me. There are wars and budgets and bombings and vast dimensions of wealth and greed and ambition and corruption.
I’m looking out the pickup truck’s window at Ambleside Beach and the ocean and the freighters – at the mothers tending to their children covered in sand and sugar and spit, at the blue sky and the mallard ducks and the Canada geese.
Streams evolve through a balance of forces. The bed shifts as it erodes one bank and dumps its remains on the other. It returns when its loops are cut off as the water finds a more direct route downhill.
Cities … do not last. The first was founded but ten thousand years ago, and many have come and gone since then. Sometimes, the sole evidence of their passing lies in evolution.
According to Fertility Hollis, there is no chaos.
There are only patterns, patterns on top of patterns, patterns that affect other patterns. Patterns hidden by patterns. Patterns within patterns.
When their fuel runs out, ... stars collapse dramatically in upon themselves, and as they do so, enormous amounts of gravitational energy are released and converted into heat.
The night before I left home, my big brother told me everything he knew about the outside world.
In the outside world, he said, women had the power to change the color of their hair. And their eyes. And their lips.
To calm this girl down, to get her to listen, I tell her the story about my fish. This is fish number six-hundred and forty-one in a lifetime of goldfish.