fennlee story

shanghai

Elegy for
a Park

trains, parks, and the light at dusk

The past? If there is no beginning and no end, if what there is in store for us is only an infinite sum of white days and black nights, we already are the past that we shall be.

We are time, the indivisible river, we are Uxmal, and Carthage, and the broken wall of the Romans, long since worn away, and the lost park these lines commemorate.