Sea of Galilee

Day Two: Jetlag Above the Kinneret, 6:44 A.M.

I was stranded like a vessel on the water; I put faith in nature and set myself adrift, isn't that how all epics begin: a tide of repose and resignation, a tide of "enough already".

I stopped believing back a time but I feel something here; it isn't revelation, it is self-doubt (an attribute of God), I'm alive at the most disarming sight, this drown of silver water, I am friable, and hesitant about it (you would not feel this in Cyprus or Ibiza, you would not feel this at a more picturesque scene in Cyprus or Ibiza).

I want the clock to stop here and for everyone to go for a while; let me find my own way; not back; but to fashion it, not like a Golem, but a full water glass shattering; these words mean nothing. I can't say how I feel here. The children around me have hangovers, they see this and pass. I wish I had known better when I was younger; I would have taken the flowers my father took from his father's crypt and untied them from my crib, where they were hung like tinsel or ceremony; I would have told him that we could be sailors here; I wouldn't ask him to know anything; not even those who walked on this water required that of their fathers.