Sometimes it only takes a tidbit, a quote, to set off dynamite in ye olde imagination. Last night, Ennis Drake posted a quote from Borges.
Now, I'm in the mood for some re-reading of Jorge Luis Borges and just plowed through that old standby, "The Garden of the Forking Paths." I'll be reading throughout the day and thinking about the novel, working on the same, and wondering if, when I take a walk later, the highway and dirt roads and two-paths road become part of a labyrinth.
Will I have walked the center of the labyrinth without having realized it?
Will the going out and coming in be more like walking a Mobius strip?
Or have I already completed the writing *and* the walk, and this now-me just hasn't run up against the then-me?