There are landscapes that almost swallow up the ordinary individual. These are regions that reek of heroic action and in which the dust of history still swirls around. The place where the Seven Pillars of Wisdom tower into the heavens calls for grand singing. Anyone with a low or feeble voice must search for his place in the choir of admirers. So it is. But what happens when one opts however to raise one’s own voice in such a landscape, when one produces one’s own puny, wretched tone? One is certainly out of place when one does so – like the grain of sand in an eye that wants to see infinity. Nonetheless.
First Publication: 13-12-2012
Modifications: 22-6-2013