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  • Distance is a difficult thing. Distance in time, distance in space, distance in closeness. It can be good in small doses but can be as equally complex, hard to comprehend and utterly draining. I often feel as though my relationship with distance resembles that of a person being swept away by the tide; the shore grows further and further away and you are powerless to stop it. Tempestuous circumstances may have brought you there or, worse I find, is that you have simply drifted away, staring straight at the inevitable. Sat in your boat, your own contained universe, you can choose to either wait and hope you'll be washed back to land or actually make a concerted effort to return to the place you once left.

    Of course, I may appear to be referring to 'you in your boat' when I am really referring to myself, possibly trying to avoid confronting the distance in my own life. And there is a lot of distance in one form or another. Some of these distances are ones which will be bridged in time as I need to wait for the tide to wash me ashore and I am happy to be patient (or to at least attempt patience.) Other distances are ones that will not be resolved by the passage of time or good fortune alone. I'll need to grip the oars and start rowing. The only problem is thus: I'm not too sure if I can remember what it is I'm trying to arrive at or return to. I wonder sometimes if I have been out at sea for too long.

    Image: a photograph I took during a pedalo ride on Lake Annecy, June 2010.
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