The temperature creeps above freezing on a late fall mountain day. Daggers of ice, hanging from the eaves, start to transform. I watch the
Nothing in its essential nature changed, still hydrogen and oxygen, still cold and clear. Just one subtle shift in its circumstances, and
released. Set free in the twilight.
Just don't think too much about the landing.
A reader here shared this, from Mark Twain, yesterday: They did not know it was impossible, so they did it! (Thanks CushmoK - and Google Translate.)
So here I am, searching for the place of not knowing, and the releasing, and the essential nature.
This, I hope, is where the impossible will be made possible.