The Limitations of the Panorama

Etymology teaches that the word derives from Greek pan (all) and horama (view), giving a meaning of a wide or comprehensive view or even of a complete presentation.

But this is a lie.

Like this panorama of the lake.

What you can't see is what makes the lake the lake -- the birds and bugs, fish and sand grains, lichen and moss, rocks and Odonate nymphs gorging themselves along the lake bed, . . . .

It's wise to make no assumptions about the long view (especially the one you might live); they're likely to be inadequate or inaccurate.


This Is a Photograph of Me
by Margaret Atwood

It was taken some time ago.

At first it seems to be

a smeared

print: blurred lines and grey flecks

blended with the paper;

then, as you scan

it, you see in the left-hand corner

a thing that is like a branch: part of a tree

(balsam or spruce) emerging

and, to the right, halfway up

what ought to be a gentle

slope, a small frame house.

In the background there is a lake,

and beyond that, some low hills.

(The photograph was taken

the day after I drowned.

I am in the lake, in the center

of the picture, just under the surface.

It is difficult to say where

precisely, or to say

how large or small I am:

the effect of water

on light is a distortion

but if you look long enough,

eventually

you will be able to see me.)