Sometimes we’re on a ship on an unsteady ocean. Sometimes we’re tossed into the water. We are so often in-between, we withdraw from what we know, hoping for something we cannot yet see. We travel, we reflect, we learn that nothing is static: not ground, not truth, especially not ourselves. Time flows, and we flow with it; we adapt to fit around the rocks we meet along the way, the swells we soar over, the waves we crash into. We go forwards though the fog ahead is dense and dark. We believe that there will be something on the other side.
