Our last sunset and it was merely a slice of lemon which puddled into the sea and then slipped down.
No fire yet, although there may be.
I feel something too closely akin to panic to be comfortable.
Why I chose today to read Joan Dideon's Blue Nights is beyond me.
Why the wind is bothering me is a mystery. Rushing, rushing. Perhaps it reminds me of how tomorrow will be with packing up and returning the scooter and checking out and getting to the airport and, and, and...
We've been here forever, for one second, for a lifetime, for this breath's intake.
I wonder how the tiny fish manage to hang on in this current. I can see them, schooled up in the shelter of the coral, swaying with the waves, staying alive until it is calm again.