He suggested that I might not be reading enough. He is right. But. And the but is significant. I’m not doing anything enough. I am reading but there is always more I can do. And, when I do read, it takes so so long to assimilate it that it feels like a single breath in a mountain of sighs. I am drowning in the work that needs to be done. Drowning. I am mole, drowning. A mole because I am in the dark, unsure of which underground trail to follow, scrabbling about taking wrong-turns, coming up against hard rock. And the water is coming. I can hear it. Help me.
