The Laughing World

The umbrella symbolized protection for me.

All my life I either borrowed someone else’s umbrella or walked in the rain without one.

If I ever bought one, it was cheap and would break with the first gasp of wind.

Two months ago I bought myself a large umbrella.

It came with a warranty and the option to engrave my name and phone number in case I lost it.

I did not engrave my phone number.

I engraved two names:

KATYASO and LUMANCE —

a dialogue between two minds.

And do you know what I hear?

The sound of rain on the umbrella.

It sounds as though it is laughing with us.

Summer trees are drinking tea.

Grass grows greener on every side.

Walking becomes the joy of the enclosed me.

A few days earlier I had written a field note about shadows and sang to a tree, asking where the shadow had been before the first morning light.

Tonight the rain answered in its own notation.

Raindrops on stretched fabric.

The umbrella became a membrane that articulates the movement of exchange.

♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪

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• • • • • • •

My observation is an operator for transformation.

The umbrella and my long raincoat cast the shape of a keyhole upon the wet pavement.

I transformed into a keyhole on the ground plane. )

I encounter keys and notate a new observation.