Something there is about a pier that leads us to walk to the end of it and stare aimlessly into the distance. There’s a metaphor floating around in there, no doubt, something to do with the brevity of life, the vanity of all aspiration, the transcendent beauty of the quiet sea.
It’s quiet on the dock in the early morning, before the sailors and fishermen begin the rock and roll of boats in motion.
Take a deep breath. Take another. Time drifts on the silent tide.
Birds may have tiny brains but they know how to drink in the moment. I’m still working on it.