Back after traveling to the edge of the continent for a few days of practice in Belfast. Struck by the pale, almost thread-bare northern light cast there beside the Irish Sea and its swift descent almost as soon as afternoon had begun. Night was suddenly upon us and I hadn’t even had a cup of tea yet.
So many reference points lost to the twilight.
Now Paris, again and as ever.
The news of course is the same all over, dawn and dusk and darkness, life and love and their torments and joys, coming and going nowhere but here, yearning for what we don’t and won’t ever have, nothing to win or lose.
A thought all the same for my favorite holiday from my native land, Thanksgiving. Whatever the « meaning » and the twisted history of the fête and the land, the essential objective remains for me: sharing a fine meal with family or friends. And remembering an offering of thanks for it all.