"When the Cang-lang's waters are clear,
I can wash my hat-strings in them;
When the Cang-lang's waters are muddy,
I can wash my feet in them."
From The Songs of the South, translated by David Hawkes
____
Painted on the afternoon of January 5, is the river muddy or clear? The shifting light allowing for both--not so much at the same time, but in a moment of transformation...
Having learned earlier in the day that the failed water heater in the studio could be drained in a direction away from the storeroom downstairs--after my long night of reviewing the world's every mishap. When I could have learned this this from Frank's unread text late that same afternoon.
But perhaps reviewing the muddy waters has its own purpose? Or might we rather live by song?
