While the waves come crashing.

This image is stunning and it correctly surfaces the true nature of things these days. I just spent my entire week submerged in texts (which was fun) and walking about trying to remember that now the grass is green and wonderful to lie on. It’s on the to-do list this week. I will take with me either Jonathan Raban‘s Soft City or some poems of Charles Simic. Anything to fit the mood of lying on a cushion of soft grass.

Work doesn’t look like it’s about to get easier but for once, despite the near-drowning sensation of having to write my own papers, there seems to be some point–a direction, if you will–to all of this limb-fumbling.

So I’m taking that deep breath and holding it in for a bit.

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