Lapping idly, bands swirling ankles with light: weariless traveler.
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Are you alive? I touch you. You quiver like a sea-fish. I cover you with my net. What are you, banded one?
Five short sentences that are The Pool by H.D., and my current obsession.
Saint Christopher, who is the patron saint of travelers and, legend has it, carried a child in disguise across a river -- somewhat like Atlas, with the world on his shoulders.