I don't look forward so much any more, dashing to grasp the future. I look left and right. I've the Time, you see, to scrutinise all that is. And what is companions me. The trees can't list their roots and move. A single motion fills a season. Well then: let me abide by them awhile. My toes, my roots. A good rain can linger almost forever.
The shorter the time, the vaster my scope.
Wangerin, Letters, p.195
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