“Look steadfastly with thy mind at things though afar as if they were at hand. Thou canst cut off what is from holding fast to what is, neither scattering itself abroad in order nor coming together.”
Crossing the frozen Charles. The old crooked river that winds through crooked cities retires its tumultuous caricature for the winter months – slows its raging, murky flow with the aid of frigid January air. The guise of firm tundra masking the flotilla of illegal dumping beneath, and so early this year.