just finished a book called darker than night. it's true crime, written by this guy tom henderson, about murders that happened near my hometown and weren't brought to trial for 18 years. two local men killed two hunters from downstate and fed them to pigs. got rid of the vehicle.
sitting and reading this yesterday, two women at a table next to mine talking about abortion. strange parallel to the text, where henderson claims all northern michigan to be rife with inbred shitheads.
IT ISN'T THAT EVIL NOR VIOLENCE NEED TO BE UNDERSTOOD, JUST THE ABILITY TO RECOGNIZE THEIR PRESENCE.
yet, couldn't we say the same thing about love? that no one quite understands it, just knows when it is there?
i'm thinking about choice, i'm thinking about essence, i'm thinking about self. human nature, life, biology and justice. some common ground upon which we all stand, the languages of our bodies, the thirsting of our souls, the desires of our hearts.
not to understand, just to recognize what is there. compassion. sympathy. just a little conversation, human interaction.
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