Storm Watchers

Sometimes I just need Dickens. Life has been in an uproar these past few days and while I have sought to read Wizard of the Crow, I have not always found the succor at hand. Two weeks or so ago while lost between books I again picked up Dombey and Son and enjoyed an intermittent segue further into this bejewelled tale which I hope can maintain its placement in my truck. The first chapter ends on a moribund note, one that manages a ripe measure of being and applies the appropriate poetry thusly.

Thus, clinging fast to that slight spar within her arms, the mother drifted out upon the dark and unknown sea that rolls round all the world.

I have gasped a few times when encountering that unassuming sentence. I have needed such throughout this week.