The sky is unbroken turquoise, the sun is hot and the breeze is cold. Some days I can smell a hint of ocean, even 65 miles inland, but not today, today it's only reflected in the sky. The Pacific smells better than the Gulf. Less Mississippi and more salt. I've been asked to speak again, but I'm out of practice and not sure what to say. Written words barely speak to our senses. Eyes, sure, you require eyes to read, but it isn't the same as seeing or smelling or tasting or touching or listening. So I part my lips to see what happens and it is just something about the weather, this beautiful weather. Something I couldn't possibly communicate to you anyway, the way my parted lips curl upwards into a smile as the heat of the sun warms my face. But I speak anyway, just to shake the dust off and see what happens next.