"When everything else has gone from my brain ... what will be left, I believe, is topology: the dreaming memory of land as it lay this way and that."
Annie Dillard
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Thursday, July 18, 2024
Time and Tides
The walks come when they will, when I wake up and make my way to the beach. The tides have their own rhythms, drawn from moon and sun and gravity.
When I stroll the beach, I'm part of the elements, pulled into their orbit, at one with sand and sea.
Time passes slowly. Eternal time, at least for an hour or two.