and offers glimpses, things you still want to try. Stare to the sparkling sea and I dream of the mountain I’ll soon visit, Ruskin’s noblest cliff, the fabled circumnavigation of the alpine valley eden and nations around its base. Each face a compass point and a white supernal dome of cupped lenticular clouds. If only I was on the tour. But I’m passing through on a three-day pass, hoping for fair weather and a view down the valley. And then on to Pollock, whispers of paint in my rain circles and window gazing, always rushing. It’s the best I can hope for, and just as I’d wished.
