added some sketches

1 files changed, 1 insertions, 2 deletions

diff --git a/book.txt b/book.txt
index ed7fe59..55a6dff 100644
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+++ b/book.txt
@@ -4,7 +4,6 @@ So they break the hearts of kith and kin,
 And they roam the world at will."
 -Robert Service
 
-"On either end of the social spectrum there lies a leisure class." – Eric Beck
 
 ## Prologue
 
@@ -81,7 +80,7 @@ One day that was no longer enough. I got rid of the house. I got a plane ticket.
 
 ## Sea
 
-aThe sand is cool underfoot, the sea oats sway in the pre dawn breeze this tiny patchedwedged between two houses feels unaccountably wild in the early morning, before the people have come to make it feel smaller someohow, I watch it from the top of the small dune, wanter the sun to the east, at the edge of where sand and sea meet begines to make its way up by turns. starting with a faint violet glow that casts that pale blue that's nearly impossble the photograph, I've tried over and over and have only one image, not mine that properly captures that pale blue pre light that begine o fade out the stars and turn the sea from the surging black mass of night glittering with moon light, startlight, ship light a vast black nothingness puntucated withe this specks of the light, into the more recognixable blue that and great thatit will become by turns throughout the day. The sun is preceeded byu light, dawn comes slowly in gradations, not all at once nature never hurries, the world had ni deadlines, has no concerns has no worries, it simply is and we are part of it buit for some reason unstatsified by it, we invented all these things to give ourselves a esens of urgency that doesn't exist outside our heads and the imaginings they foist onto the world. 
+The sand is cool underfoot, the sea oats sway in the pre dawn breeze this tiny patchedwedged between two houses feels unaccountably wild in the early morning, before the people have come to make it feel smaller someohow, I watch it from the top of the small dune, wanter the sun to the east, at the edge of where sand and sea meet begines to make its way up by turns. starting with a faint violet glow that casts that pale blue that's nearly impossble the photograph, I've tried over and over and have only one image, not mine that properly captures that pale blue pre light that begine o fade out the stars and turn the sea from the surging black mass of night glittering with moon light, startlight, ship light a vast black nothingness puntucated withe this specks of the light, into the more recognixable blue that and great thatit will become by turns throughout the day. The sun is preceeded byu light, dawn comes slowly in gradations, not all at once nature never hurries, the world had ni deadlines, has no concerns has no worries, it simply is and we are part of it buit for some reason unstatsified by it, we invented all these things to give ourselves a esens of urgency that doesn't exist outside our heads and the imaginings they foist onto the world. 
 
 Charlestown. Edisto. The saneing campround, the storm we've just outrun accross the flood plains of the lower Carolinas and Georgie out all the way out the here where finally we read an edge, the easternmost point we can get to. Befor ehte storm and kids and I head down to the beach determed to have our time before the rain plots out the sky. It;s fold, the sand whips at us in the wind like tiny tk We tough it out for quite a while. I watch them run and play. I am wishing they where braver, would take more risks, were more featless but they aren't they are who they are and I consider that gap between who they are and who I want them to be and I consider it, why it exists, why I want them to be something they are not yet. I worry about them, I worry they are too sheltered. I try to relax this is one of those things that my mind has invented and I am busy foisting on the world that could nto care less what I think it should be doing or what I think others in it ought to be doing. It is. Iam we are. Here, not. On this shore, windblown and looking to storm.