I like to capitalize otherwise unassuming words and make them into Concepts. Today, walking up to the library, revelling in my Pedestrianism, it occurred to me that at least three generations of my family have been Enclosed. Well, maybe not the generation right before me who've mostly been moms, teachers, postmen and misc., but my 75-year-old dad was, for years and years, a manager-type in a state office (Enclosed in an office) and my grandma/pa worked in a mill. Which, for all its bustle, is still ... Enclosed. Before that (I could not predict what I was getting into, when I first opened that book of Wendell Berry essays ...) they were all out in the fields.
So, was newspaper reporting Enclosed? Half immersion in a conceptual world, and half "normal" interaction in a social, and if you count actually walking around and seeing stuff happen, in a physical way. Hm. Is being a barrista Enclosed? Mostly, no, though I work in a basement.
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2 comments:
"I work in a basement"
I think you need a t-shirt that says this.
The world is enclosed in atmosphere. The atmosphere is enclosed in vacuum.
My skull encloses a little world and a little vacuum.
Rrrrrr.
I hear it picking up dust all the time.
Oh yes; let us all beware the mind-changing effects of Wendell Berry. The world is closing in on itself.
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