Steven Watson: On S.G. Baker

By Steven Watson

She seemed to slip into her place somewhat chaotically; she could fit in any group unrepentantly, but at the same time her presence thrust upon her companions a desire to hang on her every word. From her tongue dripped the waters of Bethesda and any who could bathe in the banter were truly blessed.

This was merely a preliminary observation that most could see freely. To really look at her, to see her, was like watching the way that earth dances inside the seasons. Summer and Winter; Life and Death. Spring and Autumn; Growth and Decay. All of the elements stirred inside her eternally. Sometimes in conflict, other times in harmony. Most tied themselves to one season, one aspect, never searching out the others and thereby never getting the privilege of knowing the wonders of her soul. For this poor majority, she was happy to accommodate.

The brave souls who dared to venture deeper were greatly rewarded. At her center was a war, but not one of carnage and bloodshed. It was a battle between her adventurous nature and the world’s attempt to subdue it in the silent monotony that claims so many. Needless to say, the world didn’t stand a chance. As for those that ventured that deep, they were recruited and welcomed as friends in her onslaught against the dull realities that plague hearts and minds of men.

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