Spirituality now wanders from sex to drugs to art to revolution to violence--whatever seems to promise deliverance from the quotidian.
I like the old wisdom--puns, riddles, spells, proverbs.
In new situations, I look carefully at appearances. In familiar ones, I glance.
Ideology has shaped the very sofa on which I sit.
Pity drowns in numbers.
Unlike the actual, the fictional explains itself.