The vast flood Rolls onward But yield yourself, And it floats you upon it – Ikkyū Sōjun, tr. R. H. Blyth The first drops were sweet against his hands. They tapped at him gently, first at his wrist, then his shoulder, then his face, as though to get his attention. He had expected them; the
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Living Berlin – In a Pankow Night
Late at night when the lights of the city reflect orange off the clouds, the wet pavement glistens like fire. The rain has washed away the impurities of city life and it is as though my passing there is the first passing on the virgin pavement. The silence on these nights is deafening. The clouds