Status Updates From Travels with a Writing Brus...

Shells washed about in the waves at the water's edge, and seeing them it struck me that though they were carried in and left the sea behind, they felt no sorrow; though drawn back to the sea, they felt no joy. Nothing is sadder than us creatures that have been given life. Suffering and joy in this world -- both are finally sorrow. Understanding this all to well, I can only say these shells are most enviable of all.

Okay reading poetry from 759 BC wasn’t on my bingo card for today but sure

"How pointless, I thought, to pile thought upon thought like these snows, when I must come to nothing in the end."

"This evening alone / should bear the name / of Autumn / though the moon rises pure / into the same skies of other nights"

"In Shirakawa's barrier house / the filtering moon beams / now are its only guards / but they halt / the heart"

the most idyllic thing about these stories to me is the idea of traveling with group of people who are all constantly composing poems in reaction to things