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This week at the table: What Collapses Time.
A song, a smell, a date coming round again, and a whole afternoon is back in your hands as though it never went anywhere. Memory folds time. The people we love sit closer than the calendar claims, and this week belongs to whatever arrives that way, including the anniversaries that get there before we do.
Bring coffee, or tea, or nothing. Camera optional. Listening for an hour is full attendance.
The sliding scale is open, and it slides all the way to zero.
A song, a smell, a date coming round again, and a whole afternoon is back in your hands as though it never went anywhere. Memory folds time. The people we love sit closer than the calendar claims, and this week belongs to whatever arrives that way, including the anniversaries that get there before we do.
Bring coffee, or tea, or nothing. Camera optional. Listening for an hour is full attendance.
The sliding scale is open, and it slides all the way to zero.
Pull up a chair
This gathering runs on a sliding scale. Suggested: $35, and the scale slides all the way to zero. What you give keeps the table set for someone who cannot.