Friends disappear into darkness, vanish like smoke into bright air. Mysteries descend like snowflakes and collect into drifts six feet high -- then melt without a trace.



There are times when I think the ocean offers answers to unanswerable questions:

Where do virtue and goodness go when they're lost -- where do they come from in the first place, so preposterous and inconvenient?

Où sont-elles, Vierge Souvraine -- les neiges d'antan . . . les vagues d'hier soir?

At other times I think the ocean only offers an accompaniment to all this -- no answers, only consolation, a consolation that is itself a mystery.

Be quiet anyway, and listen . . .

Readers,
     There will be no new posts for the next week or two, then some exciting news.  Until then, enjoy the archives and be assured that I remain . . .

                                              a sus pies,

                                              Lloydville