By the water. Briefly we curl into each other. Sixteen degrees when we left but the clouds gather over the peninsula, wind starts to whip our little stand of trees. On the walk back it is raining, so softly I think it takes you a long time to notice. Well into Sorauren. I lead you down at least one dead end.
I have been wanting to write about water. In reference to an I Ching reading only half-remembered now. A kind of deluge, but one that falls gently, over time. Taking time for recovery. This is the advice of the I Ching, of tarot readers, of my own brain, when I let it lead me. Leading, following, turning in circles. Moving so slowly lately. Want to move faster, but I don’t know where I am going.