Writing is an affair of yearning for great voyages and hauling on frayed ropes.

I have a hunch the world is darker than I could ever imagine and there is less reason for hope than I am able to see. It makes me grateful there is only so much I can see, and I am left mostly with questions. Grateful, also, that hope is not a reasonable thing. Though I have seen my share of darkness, I am spared perceiving much of it. And here is why I hope beyond a reasonable doubt: I think that as the darkness grows, it makes the dim lights that are left seem brighter. And the darker it gets, the brighter the light appears, until it is so luminous, eventually, even falling shadows are filled with it.

A good shell has to have life and resiliency to get in harmony with the swing of the crew.

There was water and waves all around. They ran towered the shore, and made way for the boat as it ran through. At the back of the boat, water squirted out and some of it was white.It was magical.