Spending the weekend indoors, reading Les Miserables, knitting (and at times unknitting). My mind is stewing in its own thoughts - nights spent sleepless, heady dreams boiling to a dry throat sweat, awake, gasping, 2 3 4 a.m.
Hugo says, "The scaffold, indeed, when it is prepared and set up, has the effect of a hallucination. We may be indifferent to the death penalty, and may not declare ourselves, yes or no, so long as we have not seen a guillotine with our own eyes. But when we see one, the shock is violent, and we are compelled to decide and take part, for or against. Some admire it, like Le Maistre; others execrate it, like Beccaria. The guillotine is the concretion of the law; it is called Avenger; it is not neutral and does not permit you to remain neutral. He who sees it quakes with the most mysterious of tremblings. All social questions set up their points of interrogation about this axe. The scaffold is vision. The scaffold is not a mere frame, the scaffold is not a machine, the scaffold is not an inert piece of mechanism made of wood, or iron, and of ropes. It seems a sort of being which had some sombre origin of which we can have no idea; one would say that this frame sees, that this machine understands, that this mechanism comprehends; that this wood, this iron and these ropes, have a will. In the fearful reverie into which its presence casts the soul, the awful apparition of the scaffold confounds itself with its horrid work. The scaffold becomes the accomplice of the executioner; it devours, it eats flesh, and it drinks blood. The scaffold is a sort of monster created by the judge and the workman, a spectre which seems to live with a kind of unspeakable life, drawn from all the death which it has wrought."
The horror that is a decision, made in the instant, that can neither be retracted nor ignored. Opposite is the flexibility of knitting. All one must do is unravel, rewind, begin again.
I finished my hat. Jared Flood's Turn a Square. It started out as a birthday present for my brother-in-law, but then I decided the blue with blue-sky stripes was a tad bit on the feminine side.
Oh, and, we encountered a vicious hail storm on the way out to Clackamas Town Center this afternoon. Hail? In May?