the absent-minded professorness of it

Me and the Atlantic Ocean.

It doesn't look quite like the Pacific, it doesn't have the same aura, and our chemistry is new. Although there is the familiar silent reckoning and respect, communion with the sea isn't the same experience here as it was back home. Fog often curtains the horizon; it's almost like the climate wants to give you a smaller view of life and endlessness is a perspective left imagined.

I am very fucking lonely. And it's doing weird things to my brain.

Over Easter, we visited my grandfather's grave in a quaint coastal town called Carsdale. I've never seen so many tombstones with 'Neish' written on them. There were only two but hey, that's a lot, even for Nova Scotia. Apparently, Neishes are a rare sort everywhere.

I'm starting to toy with the idea of resting my ashes under the yucca tree my grandmother planted near his grave.

Lotsa new pics up in my phlog. Off into the gray I return. Take care, all.