It was a February afternoon, when a bird flitting low across the road in the pale light brought, in a sudden flash of wings, an incursion of silence, as if the world (and my consciousness, too, being part of the world) had stopped for a moment to acknowledge this ordinary, extraordinary happening.
Since then, I've begun to wonder if it's not so much a folding, but more of an alignment, a reminder in that flash of wings that the inside and the outside were always the same - we just forget to notice sometimes.
