For most of us, there is only the unattended
Moment, the moment in and out of time,
The distraction fit, lost in a shaft of sunlight,
The wild thyme unseen, or the winter lightning,
Or the waterfall, or music heard so deeply,
That is not heard at all, but you are the music,
While the music lasts.
T. S. Eliot, excerpt from “The Dry Salvages”. In Alexandra Prado Coelho, “Bolos entre ruínas”. Granta, nº9, Lisboa: Tinta da China, 2017, p. 21.