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the sky as infinite grace

Some days I felt and urgent responsibility to each change of light outside the sunporch windows. Who would remember any of it, any of this our time, and the wind thrashing in the buckeye limbs outside? Somebody had to do it, somebody had to hang onto the days with teeth and fists, or the whole show had been in vain. That it was impossible never entered my reckoning, For work, for a task, I had never heard that word. -Annie Dillard

20 April 2008

1.2.3.4.



attleborough station, south station, silver line, boston international airport--one year ago--when you came home.
Posted by h. e. c. at 12:40 PM 2 comments:
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