And once the storm is over you won't remember how you made it through, how you managed to survive. You won't even be sure, in fact, whether the storm is really over. But one thing is certain. When you come out of the storm you won't be the same person who walked in

Haruki Murakami, Kafka on the Shore

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Owenga, Rēkohu (Chatham Island)

The glitter of sunlight on roughened water, the glory of the stars, the innocence of morning, the smell of the sea in harbors, the feathery blur and smoky buddings of young boughs, and something there that comes and goes and never can be captured, the thorn of spring the sharp and tongueless cry - these things will always be the same.

Thomas Wolfe - You Can't Go Home Again

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Waitangi Beach, Rēkohu (Chatham Island)

Here I came to the very edge, where nothing at all needs saying

everything is absorbed through weather and the sea

and the moon swam back, its rays all silvered,

and time and again the darkness would be broken by the crash of a wave

and every day on the balcony of the sea,

wings open, fire is born

and everything is blue again like morning.

Pablo Neruda

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Yet you could feel a vibration in the air, a sense of hastening.  It had started with the moon, inaccessible poem that it was.  Now men had walked upon it, rubber treads on a pearl of the gods.  Perhaps it was an awareness of time passing, the last summer of the decade.  Sometimes I just wanted to raise my hands and stop.  But stop what?  Maybe just growing up.

Patti Smith - Just Kids

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