Thursday, July 25, 2013


They come so close and cross each others paths so briefly and so closely they can smell each others boot polish. They come and go to and from and always return. Anonymity, transported daily. Isolation in social interaction, an insular approach at a busy intersection. Separate lives.

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Learning to Swim

The fishing boat rises and falls on the turbulent blue-black sea. One moment I see it, riding high. The next it is barely visible...