Outdoors behind the house, behind the garden in autumn, the vegetables now gone and the land going fallow, I drew the view of the shaded house against the glare of a brilliant blue day. Much of my past is tied up there in that house, amid these shadows. There are too many millions of things to see. Thousands of stalks of plants, glints of light, millions of leaves, a thick gauze veil of apertures through which bits of light peek through.
And every aperture, a facet of a kaleidoscopic mirage.