This reminds me of a week I spent in Negril, Jamaica. Every afternoon at two o’clock sharp, a big thunderhead just like this would roll up and drench the island for 15 minutes. You could practically set your watch by them. This was in early October, at the end of hurricane season. It would present a lovely break in the tedious routine of reading trashy novels on a seaside chaise lounge with frozen, artificially-strawberry-flavored rum drinks readily at hand. This was the time to retreat to the enormous Jacuzzi to wait out the downpour. There’s nothing finer than sitting in a Jacuzzi with fellow travelers while cold, wild rain lashes your face and shoulders.
What I’m Currently Reading
The groundbreaking trans-genre work of Argentinian writer Jorge Luis Borges (1899-1986) has been insinuating itself into the structure, stance, and very breath of world literature for well over half a century. Multi-layered, self-referential, elusive, and allusive writing is now frequently labeled Borgesian. Umberto Eco's international bestseller, The Name of the Rose, is, on one level, an elaborate improvisation on Borges' fiction "The Library," which American readers first encountered in the original 1962 New Directions publication of Labyrinths.
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- Wu Chi – The Power of StillnessA dragon is still, hence it is able to constantly transform itself. A tiger is busy, hence it dies young. ~ Ho Shang Kung, 150 BC Those who govern with virtue are like the North Star, which remains in its … Continue reading →
- Weakness – What Good Is It?
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