When I was nine, I went off to camp for the first time and homesickness set in.  One object, in particular,—my pillow—was so replete with the “gestalt” of all things “home,” that to look at it (let alone have it under my head at night) was devastating.  It was the object(ive) correlative of the love for mom and dad and the sweetness with which they had packed my things; it stood as symbol of my father’s hard work, of his love for his children… for my mother’s care in picking it out, choosing a pillow case, packing it up for me….  One view of that pillow and I was a blithering idiot, bawling away in the tent, while everyone else was tearing up the turf outside.  Now pick an object, an image, a scene, an incident, etc. that is, for you, replete with an emotional-intellectual complex that is ineffable.  Write about it.    

AG

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