Essay No. 8
The point of the horizon is that you can’t get there. All of our human strivings find their counter-weight in that long perspective, reconciled by degrees of scale. There’s nothing to touch in the great clouds rising over the Gulf, purple and blue underneath, and clay-orange in the final hour of day; that’s not the point. The system never turns its back on us. We were still part of the magical web of life, the tides, the seen and unseen wheeling of everything in the sky, which is us moving, not it, even in the most harried days of our immediate living. That’s what the horizon and light on the water are all about. Remember how small you are, and let that memory become gratitude.