And today was new. Head above water with the shackles sinking by themselves, down deep where the absence of sun kept me pale. being pushed by the wakes and currents I'm treading water. I can see the shore this time. but it feels less like "the"shore and more like "a" shore. You'll paddle over in you're white rowboat, the oars cracking against the hulls, and pull me aboard. from there all I can see is the thousand shores, but i wont matter because you'll be wrapping me in blankets, wiping hair out of my eyes and I won't be able to concentrate on anything else.

... we'll row back slowly.