"The rock feels nothing. No matter what you do to it, no matter how many times you kick it, or how loud you laugh at it, or what filthy words you write on its surface or if you lie about it and say awful things about it that are not true, the rock does not care. The rock does not hear you. The rock does not feel you. The rock sees you dimly and not well. You cannot murder the rock. You cannot wring out its soul as if its soul were no more than a dirty dishrag you'd used to wipe up blood off the bathroom floor. The rock has a soul but its soul is small and looks like mercury and moves like mercury and does not exist in time as we know it.
"The rock exists in slow time. One minute to a chunk of dull rock is one hundred years to you and me. The rock does not weep. The rock bakes in the sun. The rock gets hot to the touch, too hot sometimes to touch. The rock does not buy a candy bar to eat on the way home from school. The rock does not go to school. The rock sits wedged into the hillside. The rock waits. If you sit on it, the rock does not give way. You cannot knock the air out of it because it has no lungs and no stomach and no heart. It is good to be a rock, or, it is not bad to be a rock."
The preceding is an exerpt out of the book, Fat Girl by Judith Moore.
4 comments:
Love love love this!
For years my theme song was "I am a rock ( I am an Island)" by Simon and Garfunkle. It wasn't until years later that I learned that emulating rocks may keep one from being hurt but it isolates them from the love and caring of others.
Rocks are not something to envy, they are immune to love and appreciation. Knowing no love and appreciation they cannot give love and appreciation.
Dad
Hmmm, I wonder what comment got blocked... ?
Post a Comment