Thursday, February 24, 2011
Saturday, February 19, 2011
Down another street, above the level of the first-floor windows, came a flickering drift of hundreds of motes of silver. With a single motion all turned toward the cross street, and glittered off into the dark blue shadows.
There were shadows now.
We looked up, up from the flight of silverfish, up from the streets where the jade-green currents flowed and the blue shadows fell. We moved and looked up, yearning, to the high towers of our city. They stood, the fallen towers. They glowed in the ever-brightening radiance, not blue or blue-green, up there, but gold. Far above them lay a vast, circular, trembling brightness: the sun's light on the surface of the sea.
We are here. When we break through the bright circle into life, the water will break and stream white down the sides of the towers, and run down steep streets back into the sea. The water will glitter in dark hair, on the eyelids of dark eyes, and dry to a thin white film of salt.
We are here.
Whose voice? Who called to us?
The New Atlantis
Ursala K. Le Guin
Saturday, February 12, 2011
"I'm telling you, the power of the devil's weed is no longer needed by us, the Indians. I think we have lost interest, and now power doesn't matter anymore. I felt the way you did today, only five hundred times more strongly. I killed a man with a single blow of my arm. I could toss boulders, huge boulders not even twenty men could budge. Once I jumped so high I chopped the top leaves off the highest trees".
"It was different when there were people in the world" he proceeded, "People who knew a man could become a mountain lion, or a bird, or that a man could simply fly. So I don't use the devil's weed anymore. For what? To frighten the Indians? [Para que? Para asustar a los indios?]
from "The Teachings Of Don Juan: A Yaqui Way Of Knowledge"