Vanish.
Pass into nothingness: the Keats line that frightened her.
Fade as the blue nights fade.
go as the brightness goes.
Go back into the blue.
I myself placed her ashes in the wall.
I myself saw the cathedral doors locked at six.
I know what it is I am now experiencing.
I know what the frailty is, I know what the fear is.
The fear is not for what is lost.
What is lost is already in the wall.
What is lost is already behind the locked doors.
The fear is for what is still to be lost.
You may see nothing still to be lost.
Yet there is no day in her life on which I do not see her.
-Joan Didion, Blue Nights

What is this prejudice in favor of progress? The trouble with his mistress, Saper decided, was that she had too successfully specialized, was too purely a mistress, perfect but fragile, like a horse’s leg, which is really half foot, extended and whittled and tipped with one amazing toenail. The little Eohippus, in its forest of juicy soft leaves, scuttled like a raccoon; and even Mesohippus, though as big as a collie, kept three toes of each foot on the ground. Eohippus, it seemed to Sapers, was like a furtive little desire that evolves from the shadows of the heart into a great, clattering unmanageable activity.

– The Man Who Loved Extinct Mammals, John Updike.

The greater the art I experience the more indifferent I become to common expressions to things that solicit no engagement false responses that feel lukewarm or not daring. Why is this- how does one end of my receptivity become more sensitive and another dull?