A man sets himself the task of portraying the world. Through the years he peoples a space with images of provinces,kingdoms, mountains, bays, ships, islands, fishes, rooms, instruments, stars horses and people. Shortly before his death, he discovers that that patient labyrinth of lines traces the images of his face.
-Jorge Luis Borges, Buenos Aires
I am no maestro like Borges, but I can say that…..” if this same man, looks with the eye of his heart he will see that his face, though at once wrinkled with the marks of time is as ephemeral and immaterial as were his former attachments to the dreams that breathed a fictitious sense of being into his life. Then if chooses to plunge himself in to original space still just behind the intruments, books and kingdoms formerly peopled with his fasting mind he would see his face in the faces of all the people that were consigned to walk into his life and those in the world exiled by the limits of his mind.”
I for my part have seen my your face in my heart, shining and resplendent, despite all the turmoil you have faced trying to be a mother to two lucky souls, student to some old fashioned ridiculous teachers, and a true friend to me and my family you have emerged with a more impressive grasp of life and a more encompassing and infectious laugh.
Remember the only way to battle the illusions of life, and the terror and anguish we feel in those dark moments is to recognize that it is the same capacity to dream that, though binds us to this life, when armed with the light of our heart frees us from this one and the next.
Till we talk again