Another white overcast early afternoon. It looks like rain but it's not going to fall I can tell. Sometimes the air here feels like it hasn't rained in years. There is no wind at all. I can't recall there ever having been any. Not here. Just like any other time I'm sitting in the same spot in the dusty reddish sand at the edge of a lake. The fine long grass is strong enough to grow as tall as my shoulders. It has purpose and seems determined which is more than you can say about me. I didn't drive here. I didn't travel here. I didn't come here. I end up here now and then. But almost daily. The surface of the lake is an ivory white and of a motionless smoothness like a titanium surface. It is an unbreakable veneer with only little...