JUST BECAUSE

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Just because the days are stressful lately and this excerpt sent to me by a friend from David Foster Wallaces The Pale King feels, to me, like a meditation, a gentle inundation, a still, sweet, patient hush

Past the flannel plains and blacktop graphs and skylines of canted rust, and past the tobacco-brown river overhung with weeping trees and coins of sunlight through them on the water downriver, to the place beyond the windbreak, where untilled fields simmer shrilly in the A.M. heat:...