Mark's Pages

September 10, 2012:

Rain, soft, tropical, warm.

Injured, in pain, immobile. Isolated, by language and infirmity.

Spend some days on the deck of a beautiful lagoon-facing bungalow, a place that wouldn't ordinarily be available, if the kind resort staff hadn't taken pity. Maybe there's a time when doing nothing makes best sense.

One day older than forty-eight.