It is so peaceful at the end of this glorious day. I sit and feel the gentlest breeze kiss my cheek and ruffle my hair as I listen to the slow, repeated, calming sounds of the waves. Picking up a smooth, flat cold pebble, I warm it between my palms and, hoping that all is well with you, find myself repeating Eliot as he quotes Julian of Norwich:
And all shall be well and
All manner of thing shall be well
I skim the pebble out into the sea, counting its hops until it is swallowed by the darkness.
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