Surrounded by a field of white rocks roughly the same size and shape, the black basalt tsukubai murmurs. It is like glass, polished smooth as the water flowing over its irregular edges. I wonder if, before his first chisel, Noguchi had already heard the sound
early Spring ―
as it strikes the stones,
water finds its voice.
early Spring ―
as it strikes the stones,
water finds its voice.
by Hortensia Anderson
New York City, New York
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