A Mirror Up To Nature

A River Runs Through It

Hello Strange Readers, Eric here, thinking about the beauty of Boom Island Park, and of Minneapolis in the Summer.  It’s a gift to work on a text as thick and generous and magnificent as this one; to tell a story about the beauty of the world (“the property of rain is to wet and fire to burn”) while spending time, every day, sitting by the river and playing in the grass.  And, in that same vein, to dive into an investigation, an education, on the nature of Love, (“If thou remember’st not the slightest folly / that ever love did make thee run into / thou hast not loved”) while, in the world, we all must look into Love’s bottomless question.  Is Love full of deceptions and feigning?  Or full of a natural purity?  When is it an excuse for sex? and when is it totally blind and wrongheaded?  In this rehearsal period, we’re trying to make these questions as visceral to us as whether it will storm tomorrow.


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