|safe as houses
||[Apr. 11th, 2007|07:31 pm]
'And when I finished the painting & looked at that poor dead leatherjacket which now lay dead on the table I began to wonder whether, as each fish died, the world was reduced in the amount of love that you might know for such a creature. Whether there was that much less wonder & beauty left to go around as each fish was hauled up in the net. And if we kept on taking & plundering & killing, if the world kept on becoming ever more impoverished of love & wonder & beauty in consequence, what, in the end, would be left?
It began to worry me, you see, this destruction of fish, this attrition of love, that we were blindly bringing about, & I imagined a world of the future as a barren sameness in which everyone has gorged so much fish that no more remained, & where Science knew absolutely every species & phylum & genus, but no-one knew love because it has disappeared along with then fish.'