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The Place of Tides. This was the edge of the coastal shelf, the strandflat – the end of it all. There was nothing beyond these last few little islands but the deep, dark sea, and, somewhere out there, nine hundred miles away, Iceland, and beyond that, Greenland or Newfoundland.
There is a point where hard work and striving flips from something noble, making the lives of the people around you better, to something too intense, making their lives worse, and for a year or two I’d been on the wrong side of that line.
We cannot be what we are and what we aspire to be at the same time, something in us has to die for something else to be born.
