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Wednesday, December 03, 2014

The Still Small Voice Of Miniature Roars!

... and thereby equals or surpasses the grand opera of Walt Whitman! Does it not?

The original quote was about Emily Dickinson, whose lapidary poetry reminds me of complex minatures, certainly. And Memory itself : what is it, but a smaller rendition of reality?

Now I have found a wonderful blog.
It deals with miniature trams.

I feel like a panopticon Homer who has stumbled into a minute panoramic workshop of Hephaestus, where gilded maidens no larger than Mycenaean fibula pins move, and small tripod-footed amphorae smoke like steam.....



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