I’ve logged more experience than most with simplicity and the complexity you discover inside simplicity, minimalism and asocial behavior, endurance and landscape.
Here is the truth: I think some deep wisdom inside me (a) sensed the stress, (b) was terrified for me, and (c) gave me something new and hard to focus on in order to prevent me from lapsing into a despair coma — and also to keep me from having a jelly jar of wine in my hand.
Subscribe and Save up to 55%
Simone Poirier-Bures is the author of two works of fiction, Candyman and Nicole, and a memoir about living in Crete in the midsixties and returning there twenty-five years later, called That Shining Place. She lives in Radford, Virginia, on a bluff overlooking the New River, which is, in fact, very old.
As I stepped into the screened-in breezeway between my house and garage, I heard the muffled sound of wings. Something swooped by my head and landed on the screen: a brown thrush. It had flown in through the open garage door and couldn’t find its way out.