Now that Marcel Marceau has died, I can get to that Leonard Cohen matter I heard about the other day. In an interview on Bravo, not so many years old, Cohen speaks of our intimacy with our own heart. Each of us. That's what songs are for, he says. "And not my ponderous songs," he adds, "but the songs we wash dishes with, love with" and so on. They tell of our hearts.
The intimacy a man feels with where he is, then, doesn't need the where-ness, it needs only the heart.
And Marceau. His obit in the Globe today tells us he became a mime artist as homage to Holocaust survivers who could not speak of their experience.