A lonely and angry Jo’ burg sky has dominated this day.
The wood in the fireplace is hissing as it struggles to heat and catch. Finally it’s caught but I need it to heat up quite a bit still considering the sodden state of the larger bits.
I’ve taken a rain-enforced break from building this weekend, spending much of the day snoozing on the couch with the dogs and cats. Its been a decent break but a sense of loneliness and melancholy has descended on the house this late afternoon. Magna Carta’s “Lord of the Ages” is playing on the newly-restored amp and Rusty has made herself cozy by the fire, by now a fully-fledged blaze.
I find myself contemplating Ocean Blue. She’s pretty much been mothballed this last 2 years. On Pinterest I find myself “pinning” custom motorcycles but not sailboats? Why is that? What has happened to the dream, the former burning passion for the yacht and sailing?
Despite the reasoning that it’s only a temporary respite, a necessary hiatus while we work hard at making the move to Glencairn, deep down I have this unreasonable, unsettling foreboding that I am no longer a sailor? And that does not sit well with me.
The reason? I still value the dream. Think it worthy. Damn it. I find myself sinking into some kind of depression.