And when you wake you’re alone in a field, plagued with vague doubts and furies, but with memories of flying. All of this is you, your breath, your spirit, your soul, your self.
And when you wake you’re alone in a field, plagued with vague doubts and furies, but with memories of flying. All of this is you, your breath, your spirit, your soul, your self.
A collection of all the articles we’ve published over the past month, for those who like to savor their Magpies’ tidings as an issue.
Late winter ramblings from the pigeon spaces of the mind.
All of the articles from the past month for people who like to savor their magpies’ tidings as an issue.
Some thoughts on a broken clock.
GOOD MORNING!
A Magpies’ Museum of Lost Creations.
If there was a theme to this month’s Tidings of Magpies, or any month’s, really, it’s patchwork. Making something new out of fragments, out of things discarded, disjointed, or cast aside.
I’m talking about creating something big together, working together on something, something good. Something money and cynicism can’t touch, because we have no use for any of that. Something we believe in, even if it seems a little crazy. An unholy ghost building made up of dream-filled rooms and corridors leading to vistas and light. A place where we can sigh out our sentences and sing out our silences.
And it occurred to me that there’s nowhere else I needed to be, nowhere more important than this place at this time, standing on a cool and warming June morning with Clio rolling in the clover. This is the first lesson.