Algae was released yesterday, the final day of the
Lunar Year of the Ox. It now seeks its fortune in the Lunar Year of the Tiger.
An appropriate conjunction of anniversaries, for they have almost no connection
to the story apart from what human ingenuity can devise. As the story grew in
the parallel world of imagination, its chronology is not bound to the temporal
markers we attempt to fix to our physical existences. Beginnings and endings
are one tactic we employ to squeeze the infinity of time, the immensity of
space into our brief struggle with the incomprehensible.
However extensive a story, it
can only carry a world that will fit into our minds. Any excess will be trimmed
off and cast into the bottomless pit of forgetfulness. It may emerge at another
time or place, but it will be part of another story. Each reader takes away
what they will and puts that to their own uses.
Algae is on its own, moving
away to be refashioned by those who choose to welcome it into their lives. It
may grow or wither, but it has become itself. I can only wish it well and wave
a fond good bye.
Jim
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