Through shifting sands
Adolf P. Shvedchikov
Through shifting sands of remembrance
I sneaked back to my childhood.
I found a familiar path...What a dissonance!
But my cuckoo no more cuckooed.
My copse is withered, my brook is dry,
My ravine is overgrown with weeds...
The picture only makes me cry:
Where is my childhood indeed?
*
Overacting is self-indulgence, while underacting comes
either through a lack of talent or through a lack of courage. We should not
inflate our local discomforts into epic complaints.
- Gregory Peck.