A painting of a rice cake does not satisfy hunger. Nor a painting of the mountain the desire to see from its summit. The ocean view is a cheat, he says, you can see the telephoto effect. My son remembers his past by way of what he ate. In the mirror I saw his cheeks full, fists clenched. My memory of that meal does not satisfy his hunger, or mine. We remember best what we write in our own hand. How do blind people know where the bumps are? he asks. Words are mountains. We hike up Diamond Head, then eat malasadas. Increasingly, spikes are put on sidewalks, so the homeless cannot sleep there. But words will never hurt me.
--June 11, 2014
"A painting": Dogen