Marc Peter Keane, in his remarkable set of meditative explorations,
Dear Cloud, asks what if we had the ability to act on our inner
urge to experience life as another person, not just hypothetically,
but to actually live their lives - to be that lonely man whose
chance meeting in the high-desert changes his life forever, or the
new-born babe amazed at its still unfathomed world? And not just
other people, but to intimately experience the unique viewpoints of
other forms of life on this planet - an ancient cedar struck by
lightning, a cheetah out for blood. And going even further, to
delve into the spirit of place and occupy the inanimate - a tide
pool, the mirror surface of a pond. Mixing a devoted naturalist's
awe with what seems almost shamanic insight, seasoned with inspired
and delightfully wry big-picture matter-of-factness, Dear Cloud
comprises fascinatingly detailed observations and unexpected
realizations about the world we live in. These thoughts take the
form of letters sent home by a shape-changing protagonist who slips
seamlessly between various identities, experiencing both the
profound physical solitariness of every existence, and
paradoxically, their absolute interconnectedness.
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