… become noon, become evening.
I’ve spent the day lost in the slow rhythm of correcting or more accurately grading college work. Truthfully: it’s the part of this job I least enjoy. But it has its compensations.
Like finding a piece that is beautifully crafted – unbound by the moment, less about context than content; with a depth that surprises both philosophically and stylistically.
Only one in more than two hundred, perhaps. A product of situation rather than its prisoner. But a gift. Like a snowy, January morning with a dog to walk.