http://dharmablog.everyday-beat.org/2006/09/20/ouroboros/ Notes on paddling, fly-fishing, hiking, conservation, writing and reading, the St. Croix River, and life in Minnesota. Sat, 02 Apr 2011 04:52:49 +0000 hourly 1 http://wordpress.org/?v=3.0 http://dharmablog.everyday-beat.org/2006/09/20/ouroboros/comment-page-1/#comment-13157 Pam in Tucson Wed, 27 Sep 2006 02:34:14 +0000 http://dharmablog.everyday-beat.org/2006/09/20/ouroboros/#comment-13157 I love this. I've come back to read it several times over the last couple of days. Although I agree with Lené that an expanded version would make a great memoir essay, I like it just the way it is. Just the right size; just the right number of words; just the right feeling; just the right beginning; just the right ending. I love this. I’ve come back to read it several times over the last couple of days. Although I agree with Lené that an expanded version would make a great memoir essay, I like it just the way it is. Just the right size; just the right number of words; just the right feeling; just the right beginning; just the right ending.

]]> http://dharmablog.everyday-beat.org/2006/09/20/ouroboros/comment-page-1/#comment-13137 lene Tue, 26 Sep 2006 01:50:48 +0000 http://dharmablog.everyday-beat.org/2006/09/20/ouroboros/#comment-13137 What a great last line. I would love to "see" the story unfold--you as a child working when your grandpa came in--you all working together. What did you say, if anything? Or did you work together silently? Could you hear him coming into the workshop? How was it lit? Did the doorknob have a coating of grease that rubbed off on your young hands? I would love to feel the workshop and hear the story of how you carved the box together. I don't know if you feel moved enough to write it, but it would make a great memoir essay. What a great last line. I would love to “see” the story unfold–you as a child working when your grandpa came in–you all working together. What did you say, if anything? Or did you work together silently? Could you hear him coming into the workshop? How was it lit? Did the doorknob have a coating of grease that rubbed off on your young hands? I would love to feel the workshop and hear the story of how you carved the box together. I don’t know if you feel moved enough to write it, but it would make a great memoir essay.

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