In the forest was a path which led on, and on as if an access to a deeper realm — a place where peripherals, the eddies at the edge of things, were all forgotten, and I entered a silence of green, became a soundless vortex moving through stillness.
I am done with talk of death except as it
is a part of life, one side of a sphere
whose roundness would otherwise be
incomplete. In a letter van Gogh wrote,
"The earth had thought to be flat...
science has proved that the world is
round... they persist nowadays in
believing that life is flat and runs from
birth to death. However, life, too, is
probably round."
