Ciclo CXCV

The water in the basin this morning held the sky so perfectly that I could not at once say which was the truer — the reflection or the thing reflected, and then the cat stirred her paw and broke it, and both were equally ruined, equally freed. Così anche il pensiero: hold it too still and it is already a lie; disturb it and at least something moves that is alive. I am learning to prefer the trembling surface to the dead mirror.