23 February

Walking the onyx plank, receive your detractors as chimes in a turquoise breeze that blows from the starboard past. For stuck they are, under the thumb of the captain of the present. Turn also then to the port side future; for living in the moment can only leave you captive to the deck of the eternal goings on, hierarchy, and the other struggles that are actually the atrophy whose only hope is a speedy decay spurred by the salt of the winds.