{"id":497,"date":"2011-01-24T00:58:00","date_gmt":"2011-01-23T23:58:00","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/jasperligthart.nl\/blog\/2011\/01\/exvkblog\/"},"modified":"2011-02-24T12:50:53","modified_gmt":"2011-02-24T11:50:53","slug":"the-man-moth","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/jasperligthart.nl\/blog\/2011\/01\/the-man-moth\/","title":{"rendered":"The Man-Moth"},"content":{"rendered":"<div style=\"font-size: 14px; line-height: 120%; font-family: arial,helvetica,sans-serif;\">\n<p><img style=\"vertical-align: middle; border: 3px solid black;\" src=\"https:\/\/jasperligthart.nl\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2011\/01\/rail_resized.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"513\" height=\"402\" \/><\/p>\n<p>&nbsp;<\/p>\n<p>&nbsp;<\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-size: 14px;\"><span style=\"font-family: 'book antiqua', palatino;\">Here, above,<br \/>\n cracks in the buldings are filled with battered moonlight.<br \/>\n The whole shadow of Man is only as big as his hat.<br \/>\n It lies at his feet like a circle for a doll to stand on,<br \/>\n and he makes an inverted pin, the point magnetized to the moon.<br \/>\n He does not see the moon; he observes only her vast properties,<br \/>\n feeling the queer light on his hands, neither warm nor cold,<br \/>\n of a temperature impossible to records in thermometers.<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n<p>But when the Man-Moth<br \/>\n pays his rare, although occasional, visits to the surface,<br \/>\n the moon looks rather different to him. He emerges<br \/>\n from an opening under the edge of one of the sidewalks<br \/>\n and nervously begins to scale the faces of the buildings.<br \/>\n He thinks the moon is a small hole at the top of the sky,<br \/>\n proving the sky quite useless for protection.<br \/>\n He trembles, but must investigate as high as he can climb.<\/p>\n<p>Up the fa\u00e7ades,<br \/>\n his shadow dragging like a photographer&#8217;s cloth behind him<br \/>\n he climbs fearfully, thinking that this time he will manage<br \/>\n to push his small head through that round clean opening<br \/>\n and be forced through, as from a tube, in black scrolls on the light.<br \/>\n (Man, standing below him, has no such illusions.)<br \/>\n But what the Man-Moth fears most he must do, although<br \/>\n he fails, of course, and falls back scared but quite unhurt.<\/p>\n<p>Then he returns<br \/>\n to the pale subways of cement he calls his home. He flits,<br \/>\n he flutters, and cannot get aboard the silent trains<br \/>\n fast enough to suit him. The doors close swiftly.<br \/>\n The Man-Moth always seats himself facing the wrong way<br \/>\n and the train starts at once at its full, terrible speed,<br \/>\n without a shift in gears or a gradation of any sort.<br \/>\n He cannot tell the rate at which he travels backwards.<\/p>\n<p>Each night he must<br \/>\n be carried through artificial tunnels and dream recurrent dreams.<br \/>\n Just as the ties recur beneath his train, these underlie<br \/>\n his rushing brain. He does not dare look out the window,<br \/>\n for the third rail, the unbroken draught of poison,<br \/>\n runs there beside him. He regards it as a disease<br \/>\n he has inherited the susceptibility to. He has to keep<br \/>\n his hands in his pockets, as others must wear mufflers.<\/p>\n<p>If you catch him,<br \/>\n hold up a flashlight to his eye. It&#8217;s all dark pupil,<br \/>\n an entire night itself, whose haired horizon tightens<br \/>\n as he stares back, and closes up the eye. Then from the lids<br \/>\n one tear, his only possession, like the bee&#8217;s sting, slips.<br \/>\n Slyly he palms it, and if you&#8217;re not paying attention<br \/>\n he&#8217;ll swallow it. However, if you watch, he&#8217;ll hand it over,<br \/>\n cool as from underground springs and pure enough to drink.<\/p>\n<p>&nbsp;<\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-size: 14px;\"><span style=\"font-family: 'book antiqua', palatino;\">Elizabeth Bishop<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n<\/div>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"<p>&nbsp; &nbsp; Here, above, cracks in the buldings are filled with battered moonlight. The whole shadow of Man is only as big as his hat. It lies at his feet like a circle for a doll to stand on, and &hellip; <a href=\"https:\/\/jasperligthart.nl\/blog\/2011\/01\/the-man-moth\/\">Read the rest of this entry <span class=\"meta-nav\">&rarr;<\/span><\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":[],"categories":[57],"tags":[7,26],"yoast_head":"<!-- This site is optimized with the Yoast SEO plugin v18.4.1 - https:\/\/yoast.com\/wordpress\/plugins\/seo\/ -->\n<title>The Man-Moth - Random precision<\/title>\n<meta name=\"robots\" content=\"index, follow, max-snippet:-1, max-image-preview:large, max-video-preview:-1\" \/>\n<link rel=\"canonical\" href=\"https:\/\/jasperligthart.nl\/blog\/2011\/01\/the-man-moth\/\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:locale\" content=\"nl_NL\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:type\" content=\"article\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:title\" content=\"The Man-Moth - Random precision\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:description\" content=\"&nbsp; &nbsp; Here, above, cracks in the buldings are filled with battered moonlight. 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