There’s no such thing as paradise

Every morning begins the same. Tim usually awakens first in our pristine bedroom. The view is beautiful out the window looking south to Mile Buoy. He gets up and makes coffee.

Night time is another story. There is a spontaneous appearance of moths. This happens regardless of whether we open or shut doors and windows. Come morning, they disappear as quickly as they arrived. And it’s pristine once again.

Sent fom my Palm

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