Idly rummaging through my bookshelf, trying to figure out which ones I can remove, they're overflowing again, it's probably time to put some books into storage. I'm always buying more, moving some into boxes to make room for the new, rearranging and sorting them, running my fingers along the rows of spines, friendly volumes. I feel like something potent, something short and strong.

'This grand show is eternal. It is always sunrise somewhere; the dew is never all dried at once; a shower is forever falling; vapor is ever rising. Eternal sunrise, eternal sunset, eternal dawn and gloaming, in sea and continents and islands, each in its turn, as the round earth rolls.' --- John Muir

I stop, put the book down. There is nothing I need to read beyond this, this is all I need right now. The world continues, there is a progression, unfurling and growing, always something unfolding with beauty. This is natural, I move books to make way for books, and all the reassurance I need right now is here under my fingertips.

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