Last night I could hear the surf through my open bedroom window. All night it crashed against the shore, advancing and receding. The more quietly I lay, the louder
I gazed out this morning and saw an island pelted with rain, hard rain that seemed insistent on remaining for the entire day. Dejected, I postponed my daily walk. Then
I was born and raised in a large city, its designs imposed by humans. Paved streets, curbs and sidewalks marked by play boundaries. The garden was a small plot maintained