It's cold outside, but I leave the door open to let in birdsong and sun rays, so they may keep me company. I'm staying on a houseboat only ten kilometres away from home. It could easily be a thousand for only water, sky, and woodlands surround the boat.
The storm winds of yesterday have calmed. Small waves slap joyfully on the sides; occasionally, they make a gulping sound as if coming up for breath. The sun creates a bright surface of silver pennies. Or, at least I think they are called such. In any case, it is hard to keep my eyes from wandering over in their direction, even though their brightness glares.
Across the bay, a buoy stands straight as a soldier, silent to any whining wind. Finally, a canvas of clouds rolls overhead. Bringing so much drama in greys to my loneliness.
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