The light, not yet dusk but getting there slowly in this far northern clime, is beautiful. It's been a real summer for weeks on end, which is rare here.
I'm not completely incapacitated, at least not for blog-writing, but have been in a sort of reactionary hibernation after traveling – although I've been back for eight days now. Traveling itself was chaotic, with bits that were wonderful, but which went by fast enough and with enough stress around them, that I could hardly pay attention at the time; but in reflection they are really giving something back to me, a pleasure I didn't notice while in transit.
I wrote some fragments while traveling – I won't put them here, not yet; and I won't try to lengthen them into anything solid, but I want to go through and make them at least basically sensible. Not really a travelogue this time: more like a few brief postcards.
But I can say that, in line with all I've said in the past couple of months about stirring feelings, the shift upwards in health: and now, having finally recovered from a long school year, and this trip; somehow, and more than ever since I landed in northeastern England – and even during the anxious year in Australia, and perhaps the time in Hong Kong – I'm peaceful, expectant, and happy.
Waiting for something to come up on the horizon: life, maybe.
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