It’s a good day to turn a year older.
There are many things on my mind
but I can’t complain.
I am in a beautiful place. (Adelaide,Australia)
Doing some of the things I love to do.
(working, talking about a program I love, collaborating, taking risks, learning, writing and taking photos)
Big picture, I am totally stoked and wouldn’t have spent my birthday any other way.
I do have to admit,
that I need some time to mull over all that has transpired these past few days.
Right now though, it’s enough that I stop for a moment and acknowledge that a year has just ended.
So here’s to the best of possibilities and what’s next.
I prefer movies.
I prefer cats.
I prefer the oaks along the Warta.
I prefer Dickens to Dostoyevsky.
I prefer myself liking people
to myself loving mankind.
I prefer keeping a needle and thread on hand, just in case.
I prefer the color green.
I prefer not to maintain
that reason is to blame for everything.
I prefer exceptions.
I prefer to leave early.
I prefer talking to doctors about something else.
I prefer the old fine-lined illustrations.
I prefer the absurdity of writing poems
to the absurdity of not writing poems.
I prefer, where love’s concerned, nonspecific anniversaries
that can be celebrated every day.
I prefer moralists
who promise me nothing.
I prefer cunning kindness to the over-trustful kind.
I prefer the earth in civvies.
I prefer conquered to conquering countries.
I prefer having some reservations.
I prefer the hell of chaos to the hell of order.
I prefer Grimms’ fairy tales to the newspapers’ front pages.
I prefer leaves without flowers to flowers without leaves.
I prefer dogs with uncropped tails.
I prefer light eyes, since mine are dark.
I prefer desk drawers.
I prefer many things that I haven’t mentioned here
to many things I’ve also left unsaid.
I prefer zeroes on the loose
to those lined up behind a cipher.
I prefer the time of insects to the time of stars.
I prefer to knock on wood.
I prefer not to ask how much longer and when.
I prefer keeping in mind even the possibility
that existence has its own reason for being.
From “Nothing Twice”, 1997
Translated by S. Baranczak & C. Cavanagh
grateful slice: the promise of possibilities