Writing and Reading Vacation Spaces

There is an argument (structurally a spat) in the backseat of the rental car whose vacuum contains us. A whirr of complaint scrapes accross the chapparel of rolling golden weed hills and zen posed oak. Seams of cliff and fog and sea thicken and quit our concerning. Quiet
dotes momentarily over the swell of our familying.

"It was these secondary levels of life, these extrasensory flashes and floating nuances of being, these pockets of rapport forming unexpectedly, that made me believe we were a magic act, adults and children together, sharing unaccountable things."
--- Don DeLillo, WHITE NOISE

I am happy. Finding these people here, with me, togethered, invites me to seek them out more -- often and thoroughly.