We've learned to see the world in gasps.
We've learned to see the world in gasps.
Flea-Market vendors are frozen mid-haggle. Middle-aged women are frozen in the middle of their lives. The gavels of frozen judges are frozen between guilt and innocence. On the ground are the crystals of the frozen first breaths of babies, and those of the last gasps of the dying.
What you can say today is different. Taboo subjects like sex or words like 'shagging' used to be greeted with gasps. Now that sort of thing is scarcely noticed. Jokes haven't changed much, though.
The anguish of the neurotic individual is the same as that of the saint. The neurotic, the saint are engaged in the same battle. Their blood flows from similar wounds. But the first one gasps and the other one gives.
Parting day Dies like the dolphin, whom each pang imbues With a new colour as it gasps away, The last still loveliest, till't is gone, and all is gray.
Moscow, breathing fire like a human volcano with its smouldering lava of passion, ambition and politics, its hurly-burly of meetings and entertainment. . . . Moscow seethes and bubbles and gasps for air. It's always thirsting for something new . . .
© 2020 Inspirational Stories
© 2020 Inspirational Stories