I miss the sea

Your Atlantic gales, even the bottlenecked turbulence of the Dover Strait, the wide open expanses to the north and west, the infinite blue or grey from Cornwall or Mull's shore or coast.

Here I feel landlocked even though not that far from the Mediterranean sea.


The olives are turning on the trees. The thunder rumbles and the rain pours down, stair rods to heaven.



The German election results coming in. Nothing stands still.