Monday, March 10, 2014

School day

Traveling to school by dinghy, I wonder what that does to your brain--the splash of the oars, the way the water moves under the shallow hull. The morning light has begun to gather at the mouth of the bay like a waiting audience. Soon nothing on this earth could please it. The same dogs bark, and people shout across the road about ham and cheese. Newly hatched chicks run after their mother. Tallulah goes up the stairs to her class. I define “ostentatious” and “inveigled.” Rowing back across the bay is like being in slowed-down time, eternal, perfect time.       

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