There’s something very wonderful about a meandering river, lazily making it’s way to the sea. It might get caught in gentle eddies, it will take as long as it takes. I can be jealous of this lethargy; so often it feel like there’s somewhere I have to get to, and I need to get there now. I wonder (when I get the time to think!) whether this is just who I am, or whether the twenty-first century instills this in me, through the expectation that we’re all doing everything, all the time. Do you feel like that? I think that
