1)Bethany sang Rusalka’s song to the moon in her recital last night.
2) Listened to Wozzeck in class: Aber der Mond verrät mich…der Mon dist blutig. (See how the moon betreays me…the moon is bloody)
3)As I sat reading “The man with the blue Guitar” tonight (It is the sun that shares our works/The moon shares nothing. It is a sea), I looked out my window to see the mooning rising (as in Walt Whitmann: Lo the moon ascending, out from the east—the silvery round moon.)
4) Seeing the moon out of my window tonight reminds me of my obsession with the children's book Harold and the Purple crayon. It was one of the first things Craig and I read together when we first started dating—a year ago today.
What does all this mean?