SPEEDING UP
Each time I think maybe there isn’t anything more to write about, the sky is the blue that it was today and I realize all over again that one can never have enough of it. If the sky is a wonder and a joy each time it’s that blue, that cloudless, endless blue, then why not everything? Even the things I’ve written about before suddenly strike me as relevant, as fresh, as interesting they did the first time. This time we twist them, we come at them from another angle. We open them up, unfold them like a flower, and...