PRINT Summer 1989


The function of art

THE CHILD HAD NEVER before seen the sea. One day, his father took him to her. They traveled for many, many days until they found her, beyond the tall dunes, waiting, announcing herself in the powerful and fragrant winds, and in the hoarse voices of waves breaking on the shore.

When the child and his father finally reached the crest of the dune, the sea exploded before their eyes. The immensity and brilliance of the sea was so great that the child fell silent, awed by her beauty. When he finally found words, he begged his father in a trembling stutter, “Help me to see!”

celebration of the right to fly

AT THE ENTRANCE TO THE town of Ollantaytambo, near Cuzco, I was able to break away from a group of tourists, when a local child, sickly and dressed in rags, asked me to give him a ballpoint pen. I had only one, and had been using it to jot down boring notes on archaeology, but

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