“you in winter who sit dying thinking huddled behind dirty glass mind muddled and cuddled by dreams (or sometimes vacantly gazing through unwashed panes into a crisp todo of murdering uncouth faces which pass rapidly with their breaths.) “people are walking deaths in this season” think “finality lives up on them a little more openly than usual hither, thither who briskly busily carry the astonishing & spontaneous & difficult ugliness of themselves with a more incisive simplicity a more intensively brutal futility” And sit huddling dumbly behind three or two partly transparent panes which by some loveless trick separate one stilled unmoving mind from a hundred doomed hurrying brains (by twos or threes which fiercely rapidly pass with their breaths) in winter you think, die slowly “toc tic” as i have seen trees (in whose black bodies leaves hide” text: e.e.cummings, XLV (1931) image: Richard Long “A stone line before a blizzard, A fifteen day walk into National Forest, California, Winter, 2000.”

details of the moment…