Neal swelled to a muddy Mississippiesque river, all but destroying the structure and most of its contents. Conveniently homeless, I kept a decade-old promise to myself to live in warm place next to the sea. Now I write these horoscopes meditating on the waves and on the horizon. The colors of the water and the sky change from day to day, and hour to hour. At night, I taste the breath of far-off hurricanes.
Planets rise, the sun rises, and life is always a little different.
I'm learning to commune with water again, and to live always like I'm beneath its surface, moving a little more gently, at once with less thought and greater sensibility, the way you must down here.