The past, and the next second, the experience, and the hunger, joy, and its intermittent absence, everything, everything seems to be the resilience which demands repetition, not to preserve life but to live it — in composed sounds, in uttered words and their placement, in the gentle push to invest mind, spirit, and flesh, even in the brewing of a coffee, after twenty-nine, or fifty-one thousand brews.
Sila Blume 