Dinner in the Hotel and I Hear Variations on Pretty Much the Same Four or Five Conversations Every Night

by Steve Mitchell

We all like our words.

We talk and talk and talk, our realities bouncing about, all assert and justify and assert and repeat. 

But reality is its own thing, always and infinite, not spoken into existence, muffled and loud, around a forkful of whipped potatoes. 

Words about reality don’t make reality. 

That’s what I say …

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