Grass down the Mouth

‘Why are you so afraid of the return?’ Paul asks, ‘the eternal return?’ I watch Paul as he sits in his plaid shirt, a little piece of grass hanging from his mouth. ‘Why are you hoping for a sequel?’ I watch as Paul pulls down his hat.

I began to think about sequels… about Nietzsche’s eternal return. Nietzche’s eternal return, in that this life we live, now, we will have to live over and over again- ad infinitum. ‘Yes,’ Paul jives, ‘that is exactly it.’ He takes a piece of bacon from the pan and throws it on the flame. ‘Notice how you have missed it if you are in search of heaven or hell.’

The flame turns blue as the fat of the bacon spreads onto the rocks.

‘I want to know the bigger question,’ Paul thumbs up his straw hat, ‘I want to know how this will fit in eternity.’ His hands spread apart, his finger crack as he bends them backwards. ‘I want to know how this experience, this moment, will forever fit in eternity.’

I sit thinking, wondering, what Paul means. I look at the trees, the birds flittering in the sun. How does this fit eternity, I wonder?

‘It will repeat! It will forever repeat and play itself over and over! Be prepared!’ Paul smiles. ‘This is eternity.’


About Rene Diebenkorn

Lifetime Artist. ETC.

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