These days I often find myself profoundly stressed by an American real estate developer. I live in Ohio, a state that is likely to vote for he-who-must-not-be-elected. Hope, peace, and calm fade when what cannot be is about to be.
In that state, I walked outside to feed my pond fish. They’re very old fish but they respond to the sight of me hold the coffee can in which I keep their food. Bodies moving in water have a grace and elegance earthbound creatures cannot achieve. Is he-who-must-not-be-elected proof that we made a mistake when we crawled up onto the land those millions years ago?
And then I turned around and clumsily brushed my face into my Japanese maple tree. Each leaf suspended four or five perfect globes of water, alight and transparent. I could not find in them any hint of politics or monsters and calmed enough to start my day.
