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April 2018, vol 14 no 1

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Michael Dylan Welch


I vant to be alone
      – Greta Garbo

Sometimes, while skiing, I’ll stop wherever I am to be aware of where I am, whether there are other skiers nearby or not. I still myself, being alone with that location, not merely in it. I see the sun on the mountainside across the valley, the gentle swaying of snow-dusted pine boughs, hear my breath, perhaps seeing it in the cold air as I exhale. And I am there with all the snow, white everywhere, the chill entering my nose, my lungs, my eyelashes crackling as I blink.

lowering sun . . .
the meaning of life
eludes me again