It is the fixed that horrifies us, the fixed that assails us with the tremendous force of its mindlessness. ... It is motion without direction, force without power... that our every arabesque and grande jete is a frantic variation on our one free fall.
The world may be fixed, but it never was broken. And shadow itself may resolve into beauty.
Annie Dillard, Pilgrim at Tinker Creek
Can she illume me more than she already has?
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