“The air, thousands of blades rushing over the evershifting earth. I walk nameless and faceless through a featureless land beneath an unremarkable sky …” >> Read more
Introduction for Eddy Rathke written by Jesse Lawrence:
I’m walking down the street, half immersed in the stolen glance of a tangential thought and half immersed in the book I’m reading, in the trees I am, so far, avoiding, and I catch a peripheral spark of fancy dress. Edward J Rathke. Could that have been?
Mr. Rathke and I, we share a city and we circle similar halls, but we do these things in just such a fashion that we seem to always pass each other by, failing at formally meeting. As I shuffle the city streets, Eddy runs to alternating global corners, writing letters to himself and those he meets, his prose as mellifluous as the paths which he seems to take.
I imagine him at the ballet, simultaneously in the front row and in the wings. Or even, perhaps, in some Lynchian time-travel cinematic dream wherein he takes the place of Sami Frey.