Moleskin 5.1: Studio

  As I write this, I am sitting on the edge of a river: yes, I am still here. But it is not the same river. My place is the same, for the most part, and my position has barely shifted over time, other than to keep balance and circulation, but the river: maybe this is what my story is really about: the water of seasons, the gravity of upstream, the quiet velocity of now; the accumulation of purpose, the weight of every moment and the immensity of destiny. For the moment, the river seems peaceful enough, but history cuts the river bed and current moves every drop. The course changes without consultation and proceeds past more bends than one can ever see from a random perch. And I, sitting here Siddharta-like, or Huck Finn-like, am constantly thinking of venturing downstream, crossing to the other side or immersing myself and trying not to be seen.