There's a sunburst outside, sculpted in clouds perfectly stolen from a faded oil painting. Far out in the pacific, a patch of brightness appears, shimmers, stays... a miracle in waiting. I feel strangely digital, and watch the expressions of people with interest as the bus drives past them. Many look fleetingly worried, as if for a half-moment they feel left behind, tied to earth. The children especially have this wistful look, so I know it's genuine. Rain falls lightly on the bus driver's window, and I think how written fragments of our past become at once poetical and cherished, rising to a point of nostalgia, artifact. We couldn't halt this ride if we wanted to, but every stop along the way is passingly precious, and never exactly the same again. This written remedy is called a "time capsule" by some, but Douglas Coupand's term "Postcard" fits much better. So here's one for memories, November 9th 1998... wish you were here.
The rattletrap BC Ferry, in requirement of a happy norwegian power adapter. Happy BC Ferries Man: "Every other ship in our fleet is built to last!". I agree.
I'm the only one turned to the window, and I'm looking at a computer screen. Not enough to avoid a few glances however... seagulls are the west coast's answer to angels.
The people at the next table are from WestJet inc.
And my mind is caught in the reflection of sky...