Last Sunday I tried to take you back to the end of the world. I’d been there before, just once, at some point in the previous year on an afternoon when everything seemed very close to falling apart—now I struggled to find the end of the world on a map. Was it on the northern side of the peninsula, or the very western edge? I could recall with ease the slope of shell, the shallow river like a miniature delta that needed to be waded through to
This is beautiful and full of breathing. Thank you.