Gone fishing

Photo by Johannes Plenio on Unsplash

A hot summer sun beat down on the city. Just a few days and I will be on holiday. In that time, the only thing I will have to do is talk with the people I care about.

I have been thinking about what I would do next on this blog. I thought I would write some more for a while. I would write about how the grass felt like a fine shower of rain on my body and how the sounds of insects, animals, and the wind never startled me. I would write about how I learned to speak the language and how to negotiate trades with the owners of the shops and taverns. I would write about growing food or gathering it from the bushes that lined the river. I would write about making friends who changed as often as the wind in the trees. I will not do those things, though.

A few weeks ago, I found that I do not want to write on it for some time.

I will take a break from writing for a while.

I will crawl into bed with the covers pulled up to my chin. The weight of my book will comfort me as I read, and only when sleep comes over me will I lay it down, my hands aching from holding it open. I will listen to the rain falling on the roof and lull me to sleep. It will be as if the rain is describing a world outside this one, where we never face our fears or the pain of our actions and never understand that we do the best we can given what we have.

Finally, I need some fresh air. I don’t like what I read in newspapers, LinkedIn, or other sources. Everything has become so convoluted and, sometimes, inexplicable to me. I need to step back for a while and go back to the basics.

I think it is about time to stand up with more strength, personally and professionally. I can do it, but I need some distance for a while.

I will see you in September.

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