The New Season
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Its about to be the season when the wisteria vines pop off. Girls gone wild, but like quiet and with a grace to the aggressive and unrelentless growth. There is a section along the river where they’ve taken over and to walk along it when they are in full bloom is to be assaulted by sweetness. They are peas of a sort, which is why after blooming they grow velvet drooping pods. Green velvet satchels to stow secrets. The word wisteria is actually fairly new, named for Caspar Wister, an anatomist and doctor from Philadelphia. Wister was a contemporary of Thomas Jefferson, with whom he worked with to identify the bones of the megalonyx, an extinct giant ground sloth.  Last week, in an attempt to connect with old friends, I watched “with” them a 40 minute movie called "Now, At Last!" in which a sloth moves across a tree. I had expected it to be slow, but it did not feel slow. I suppose what i mean to say it that I had hoped that it would be so slow that it would disconnect my eyes from movement, disconnect my heart from my body.  And maybe it did. There was a moment in the middle when the soundtrack shifted from diegetic rainforest noises to Unchained Melody and my eyes shifted from being organs of sight, to organs for the release of water, for the release of everything.   https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IYj2hex99gY *
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