Never before in all my days have I shed so many tears upon leaving a place. The magic, the entities, the sloping sky. Months before I had realized that I am meant to live and rest by the sea. Perhaps by one particular sea. Perhaps in one particular place. And then, abiding by a larger wave of motion, I left. The air was fresh and moist and musical. Everything was always wet, slick with atmosphere, slipping into the cove one inch at a time. An extra sense became something beyond extra-sensory. One could see through the darkness into a very potent reflective light. Dark became peaceful; days became light. The heaviness of spirit that I had experienced for three decades dissolved into a somewhat resigned happiness. 'Twas not resigned in a negative sense; rather, it was the acceptance of an inevitable truth.
