I don’t think of myself as qualified. I don’t really believe a preoccupation based on magical stillness qualifies. To comment freely on what’s going on with the rustle of falling leaves is far graver than the loss of a pet. And the issue itself of being qualified is not particularly unexpected happiness. I am full of frustration about this, but really am always, to my mind, spinning my hopes on those who come to celebrate symbolic forms.
running the whole length of the horizon...