Wanting More and More to Live Unobserved, Unobserving Wanting more and more to live unobserved, unobserving, like a dog who takes the bone and goes to another room where it just fits under the low-legged table or couch. In the farthest depths, no sunlight reaches. Yet certain fish, now eyeless, streak with luminescence when excited; a lowered bathysphere turns on a floodlight and is mobbed, the strange-formed bodies drawing in for miles. No one was ever meant to see this. Certainly not the fish, who see nothing, whose tentacles travel the cold light, and no one knows how or why. Like human beings to a mystery they imagine feels some passion for their fate. And the dog? Fallen into the marrow-pleasure completely. Jane Hirshfield.
(notes from the voices in my head)