All that busy stuff. While the hands work, the ears have been getting their Herman Melville.
Three discs in and we aren’t yet at sea, and the 19th century attitudes are, shall we say, interesting. I note that the last few discs are much shinier than the first ones, and wonder if I am to be another listener who falls by the wayside before finis can be reached.
Saturday was a raw grey day full of cooking, taxi-ing, talking, cleaning, arranging, planning. There was a happenstance fifteen minutes to sit in the car above a wide fall of land, where the wind played a sort of visual counterpoint with the branches of a tree. They moved subtly past each other and back again, over and against one another but united at the root.
I should have been in bed an hour ago.