Great Hoboes of New York

Ken Ueno's Travelogue

16 - Silence

What can be said in silence? That we tried and loved. That there was hope. But a hope turned into a meditation on geographical distance, a meditation that we hoped would bring clarity - were we to have spoken, we would have continued to reenact the roles with which we were all too familiar. Alas, there is comfort in inertia, that is it a known quantity, and that this known quantity could be a perfectly fine stream of possibility in life. And as if by not saying, we might sustain that perfectly fine possibility, while longing, on the other hand, for a future of multiplicities. A future in which all routes through all possible battlefields, in all the nameless towns, had been surveyed. A new hope then might arise, one in which one might be able to choose his special battle. His special nameless town. A hope that from all possible multiplicities that one might be able to then reduce everything down to one passion. Even at the possibility of realizing that that one passion was one one had long ago risked and no longer retrievable. And that one might wax nostalgically, then, for the rest of his days at that time, when we, heroically, declared ourselves to be - in love.

Tomorrow is laundry day.

See Features for Previous Journal Entries.