Where to start is the problem, because nothing begins when it begins and nothing's over when it's over, and everything needs a preface: a preface, a … - Margaret Atwood

I read for pleasure and that is the moment I learn the most.

Nothing like love to put blood
back in the language,
the difference between the beach and its
discrete rocks and shards, a hard
cuneiform, and the tender cursive
of waves; bone and liquid fishegg, desert
and saltmarsh, a green push
out of death. The vowels plump
again like lips or soaked fingers, and the fingers
themselves move around these
softening pebbles as around skin. The sky's
not vacant and over there but close
against your eyes, molten, so near
you can taste it. It tastes of
salt. What touches you is what you touch.

All observations of life are harsh, because life is. I lament that fact, but I cannot change it.