The child and I go to play in the water. We leave the cottage, crouch on the bank, and send sticks down the river. Soon the night is too dark for us to see. We fetch some candle stubs from the house; we fetch some flat kindling from the woodpile; we light the candles, stick them to the flat wood, and launch them into the river. The river and the sk

Swimming might be the closest to flying a human being can get. There is something about your body displacing water

How wonderful to realize, amidst thrum of a bass drum, that sometimes it is a joy to be alive?