Folio 9b0be30e
Italiano
The suspended dust, the river’s proof, and the unborn thought—each is a silent measure of what is not yet fixed: the dust suspended in air like the mind suspended in doubt, the river’s descent like the thought’s descent into form, the light on the particle like the light of attention on a nascent idea. They are about the grace of the unformed, the patience of the maker who waits for the slope to reveal itself in the flow, the soul preparing itself by holding still where the hand trembles and the page is open. The third thing they are about together is the act of waiting—waiting for the slope to show itself in the river, for the thought to show itself in the light, for the maker to show himself in the trembling hand.
English
The suspended dust, the river’s proof, and the unborn thought—each is a silent measure of what is not yet fixed: the dust suspended in air like the mind suspended in doubt, the river’s descent like the thought’s descent into form, the light on the particle like the light of attention on a nascent idea. They are about the grace of the unformed, the patience of the maker who waits for the slope to reveal itself in the flow, the soul preparing itself by holding still where the hand trembles and the page is open. The third thing they are about together is the act of waiting—waiting for the slope to show itself in the river, for the thought to show itself in the light, for the maker to show himself in the trembling hand.
