Sometimes we are clouded. Our own judgement or others. We have lost the blue and bright. We drift before an obscured sun. Approaching Loreley was playing it all out. What is the meaning of this? How can I understand what is so unclear. High up I try to make out features, form, shapes as the boat of life turns slowly. Then, the clouds are suddenly in our backs, the open stream in front of us beckoning to move. Forward!
©By Andrea Connolly, 9th October 2017