14 Dec

Why is life so full of unspeakable moments? The kind that are always shared, but never outside that first, immediate connection. The kind that would be instantly lost if translation was ever attempted.

I’m talking about lovers. Windows. Silence. Lightning. About music without any lights on. Abut a contentedness that is as much of you as air or water or blood cells.

About something so basic that it is a non-event. And so goes unsaid when someone asks what I did over the weekend. Even though it was simultaneously the funniest, the most beautiful, the most profound.

If you are an asker of such a question, and I say, “I had a great weekend. We didn’t do much.” But I have a look in my eye that says there is more, so much more, I can only suggest you imagine your unspeakable moments.

Then you’ll have an idea, the faintest hint of it. And we can share in our knowing.

One Response to “moments”


  1. butcherbird clocks :: beethoven’s whale « read::zebra - February 24, 2011

    […] It’s impossible to explain just how lovely Griffiths is when she speaks. Her British accent and almost giddy joy is infectious; her voice alone is reason to listen. At the very end, before the show circles back to that elongated symphony of Beethoven’s, she says something beautiful, something that, in a way, explains an earlier post: […]

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