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Patience

Verona makes a really yummy coffee.

I’ve been finding it hard to write about where I am at the moment; little of it is very new territory, but it’s been coming together in oddly unfamiliar ways. I find I don’t know what to make of it all, in its totality.

And though we never do know, at the moment that totality feels indispensable; I’ve not been able to break it into the manageable pieces necessary for a systematic review. All I can fix on, in the times I classify as private, seem to be the felt aspects of reality: coffee, the breeze, a song (oh, blessed music), glutamate and capsaicin, the views from a run or trek.

But I suppose all of this can be apprehended as an intermediate state. That it will resolve is something I acknowledge, but how it will is not something I’ve allowed myself to dwell on, though sometimes I wonder if I am deceived.

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Categories: Reflection
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