Out of Edinburgh on the Friday, the rain was close, pattering and blurring everything. A heavy sort of day, though the mood in the car was light.
Now, today, the sun clips against the stone, the sky is open and away high up. I’m lying on the floor of our flat, trying to type, trying to focus on the task at had, Dear Friends and Gentle Hearts. There is a heaviness on me, in me. My body aching from the hike, and my mind churns – we must leave the flat soon, must find our new home. I must write the best book I can, while floating on this wooden river. While the day outside is more distant than the top of a mountain. While my finger stub against the keys, the rudder.
How do you navigate, let the current take you?