Commentary
As inaccessible now as Atlantis before it sank in the Sound.
On Monday, my daughter and I drove down to Five Corners so that we could put our knees on the gritty pavement for eight long minutes.
Made, we are, from the dust. And for mere dust to try to dominate other dust, to put your dusty knee on the neck of another man.
When nothing is as it used to be, flowers offer comfort.
Every evening, on the hill outside my little cabin in West Tisbury, a stupendous spectacle takes place.
