The title is a lovely paradox; wind is a symbol for change, the only constant in life, but even the wind stops blowing sometimes. It may not be often (as “Can” suggests), but change does stop changing occasionally. In a present where every day seems to reveal some new, horrifying political development, the song’s statement is deeply intoxicating.
Summer, Day 15. My crops thrive, every leaf and vine coaxed into dancing with the breeze. The blueberries, tomatoes, and melons are teaching me grace. At dawn, the dew glistens. All day I listen to the carpenter, her hammer chants an old rhythm called “Creation.”
They belly-crawled to avoid the lightning, and when the gap between rumbles and flashes quickened, they curled up on their packs. Sand stuck in the dry cracks at the corners of their lips.
Maybe all children stop growing up at some point, and then start up again. Like a plant hibernating in the cold.
Giving someone a Void Egg on their birthday will never
make your spouse jealous. Void Eggs can now be used
to make Void Mayonnaise.
We think video games are literature, and so why shouldn't there be literature about video games? That's the question we're hoping to answer here. Read more.
