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[a] Graphic conclusions [1] |
So what, exactly,
is an ending? This is a more difficult question than you may have anticipated, if you really think about it. Do we mean something like
nirvana—a quiet extinguishing of the candle of embodiment? Do we mean "three, two, one...there's the buzzer, and it's all over"...? Do we mean "and they lived happily ever after?"
Yes. We mean that, those, and more.
Round and Square's series of posts called "Endings" will explore various manifestations of this formidable concept—from all around the world. We will tackle game endings, last lines of poems and novels, concession speeches, obituaries, teary goodbyes, graduations, dessert, jail, pizza slices, playoffs, peace treaties, and automobile junk yards.
You may have noticed something a little disarming (possibly even disturbing) as you went through the list above. Almost every ending has at least a hint (some cases are stronger than others, as you will imagine) of, well, a beginning. Leaving off obituaries for the moment, what is a junk yard if not a place—at least in part—for others to claim parts? What is a sobbing moment of parting but a new beginning (happy, miserable, or otherwise) for each of the participants? What is dessert but...well, you figure it out.
Round and square, east and west, beginning and ending... There might just be something going on here. Well, there is, and we will study it on these pages that link the ends of chess games with the ends of eras, and everything in-between.
We will keep our eye on the gas tank and the oil lights in our little automobile of thought, and trust that the road will just keep on keepin' on, all the way from Presque Isle to San Diego—or from Itasca to New Orleans. It will be a little like searching for the end of the rainbow. You all know how that turns out.
Welcome...to the end.
Oh, and one more (last) thing. The ending doesn't mean it's over. Life is more complicated than that. Watch for the Round and Square series coming soon—Aftermath. (I'm not kidding).
[1] Photo courtesy of Ann Davies, August 1999.
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