I get over the shock of being here. Being in Paris,
being in Rodin's garden outside Rodin's house
– now a museum, and finally, standing beside
a really large edition of Rodin’s ultra-famous
The Thinker. It’s so big, it's surreal. I love Rodin
– especially because everything he did is larger
than life and he was never afraid to show
all the warts and wrinkles on his subjects, so much
so, he took a lot of heat from the public. I wonder
what Rodin had his Thinker thinking -- his art
was always motivated by deeper layers than what
shows. Or so it’s said.
*From Elizabeth Bachinsky’s poem
Home of Sudden Service from the book of the same name.
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