There are days and nights when you are so far out to sea doing things that seem pretty remote from art, even if you hope they’re in a roundabout way in the service of it, that you sometimes very nearly forget the innermost heart of what you’re about. Of course, it’s natural: you’re busy dodging rafts of sargassum and tapping hungry fish on the nose while watching for the spark that marks the harbor on the far shore. All of which can wear you out a little, can make you start to think a little about turning back. But then the nighttime breeze knocks a moth into your eye, which randomly makes you remember how it was funny that time the moon looked like a streetlamp, which makes you remember that land you’re swimming toward is full of wholly awesome human beings. And so you remember there is a reason you jumped off the quay into the dark water, a reason why you crawl across the skin of the water without hardly ever stopping to rest. You didn’t forget the why, only tucked it away to keep it safe. And so, reassured, you look harder for the spark, and then, at last, there it is.

Plus, it helps to have an angel by your side the whole way. More than helps, actually.

Anyhow, it’s good to see folks working on real actual work. Makes my soul ache in the good way it should ache, which means it’s still alive down there, which is a nice surprise.

And now you can see why my press name was almost “Widows & Orphans.” Probably should have stayed that, come to think of it. In any case, I guess the current one is just a placeholder until I can think of something better.

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