#sean h doyle

Yesterday I was standing on a pier in the middle of the East River and I was looking at the glorious fog hanging over the city and I kept on wanting to cry but the tears wouldn’t come. I closed my eyes and tried to let whatever needed to wash over me do what it would but all that kept happening was me seeing my dog—all wiggles and wags and snorts and grunts and happy sounds—sleeping at my feet in a way only dogs can do. I was trying to meditate, I guess. That is something I do every morning but I never do it out there in public even though it was early and the only other person I saw hanging around the park with the pier was an older bald man who kept looking at me warily and I could feel his sadness.

I can always feel sadness.

FRAGMENTVM “Welcome, Ghosts”; This Must Be the Place ANNO MMXV VIDEBITVR

In ponte in orientis medio flumine heri moratus urbem magnificis coactis nubibus spectabam et quamvis lacrimas gaudio effundere vellem tamen non potebam. Claudis oculis volebam animi excruciari, cum canem meum vibrantem membra quatientem gementem suspirantem omnibus gaudentem ad meos pedes dormientem quo modo soli possent canes conspicerem—ad meditandum, ut opinor, quod prima luce omnium dierum ago, etsi non publice, atque tum multo mane solum videbam qui calvus annosusque furtim me spectabat; eum esse miserum sentio.

Miseros semper novi.

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Having tarried yesterday on a bridge in the middle of the river of the East, I was watching the city with splendid clouds having been collected, and although I wanted tears to flow forth in gladness, nevertheless I was not able. With closed eyes I wanted to suffer in spirit, when I caught sight of my quaking dog, his legs shaking, groaning, breathing, rejoicing in all things, sleeping at my feet, in a way only dogs are able—for the purpose of meditating, I believe, which I do at first light of all days, although not publicly, and at that time, very early in the morning, I saw a lone man, who, bald and full of years, was watching me secretly; I sense that he is sad.

I always recognize sad men.