The carnival existed perhaps before the great grandmother, and afterwards. For this, the carnival can be likened to the world in microcosm, because the world exists before we us and after us, ours being a finite physical journey, even though we don’t like to think of it on the sunny carnival days of happy forgetting or even on the more pensive fairground nights when we sit and watch the giant wheel lighted in the sky spin its rounds and the early autumn wind and air sings in from the invisible lake beyond.
Brian Michael Barbeito’s When We Fell In Love
My motto is simple. It goes, ‘It is better to be even a bad poet than a good anything else.’