That the Earth decided to make something this beautiful, when it could have just gone on making granite, felt like a miracle — the miracle of all those things unnecessary to survival, like music, like love, that give meaning to being alive.
Why all the threadbare drama, the stale catastrophism of calling it broken? It still beats, doesn't it, still trembles at the sight of fog flowing through the forest like a slow dance song. It was only dislocated, lost its locus for a while, popped out of the socket of good sense.
One rebuttal — which I happily ascribe to — is to reply with an image of Las Vegas Sphere and say, "yes, we definitely do" build anything beautiful anymore.
4mo ago
Underscored — save the words that stop you in your tracks.
