A poem by Fanny Howe
In a world where everyone is looking for someone to blame, I had just left a space where people said, “Be strong. We will weather this, too.”
“I don’t for a minute think we’re defined by our passports. We are so much larger than we have language for. It’s the writer’s job to keep reminding us of this. The vocabulary of politics can easily become a trap. Its structure is by nature full of false dichotomies, simplistic definitions, and distorted oppositions.”
The sad Paterson goes out the next morning and sits on a wooden bench, in front of the waterfall where he eats his lunch on weekdays. He stares at the waterfall, and the miracle happens–in Jarmuschian way–a Japanese tourist comes and sits next to Paterson, and when he leaves, he pulls a blank notebook out of his shoulder bag and hands it to Paterson as a friendly gesture.