Lazy days of summer.
A bowl of coffee, and then another one.
Pondering with the help of Kundera.
We classify things and people by measuring their output.
Here, in this quiet garden,
surrounded by the sounds of birds and
embedded in the smell of the sea,
I am wondering what to do with all the unmeasurables.
Many writers on this shelf has thought a lot about this.
Sontag will be consulted next.
And, on a semi-related note:
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