I intended to do some critical writing … not necessarily an essay or review, but something to showcase a particular piece of work in which I’ve become immersed.
I decided against such an effort, having come to the conclusion discovery and the joy of discovery usually outweighs the value of exposition … so unless such discovery is unlikely to occur, there is little point in throwing words at something.
Then I ran across this curious line from poet Carolyn Forché: “Along with whatever has not yet been named.”
That’s pretty much what I was thinking. Even taken out of context the line conveys a very important idea … that there is still a body of something or other that has not been categorized, classified, labeled or even identified.
I resolved to pay more attention to those very sorts of things — as if they could even be called “things,” since they are not even that. And I thought I would start right here.