On the Seashore
By Rabindranath Tagore
On the seashore of endless worlds children meet.
The infinite sky is motionless overhead and the restless water is boisterous. On the seashore of endless worlds the children meet with shouts and dances.
They build their houses with sand, and they play with empty shells. With withered leaves they weave their boats and smilingly float them on the vast deep. Children have their play on the seashore of worlds.
They know not how to swim, they know not how to cast nets. Pearl-fishers dive for pearls, merchants sail in their ships, while children gather pebbles and scatter them again. They seek not for hidden treasures, they know not how to cast nets.
The sea surges up with laughter, and pale gleams the smile of the sea-beach. Death-dealing waves sing meaningless ballads to the children, even like a mother while rocking her baby's cradle. The sea plays with children, and pale gleams the smile of the sea-beach.
On the seashore of endless worlds children meet. Tempest roams in the pathless sky, ships are wrecked in the trackless water, death is abroad and children play. On the seashore of endless worlds is the great meeting of children.
I spent Friday morning working on my France photo book, which is taking forever because Shutterfly's site is sucking so much that I'm thinking after decades I need to find a new service. Then I went to a Pokemon raid in Cabin John Park, where a friend helped me catch a 98 IV Mewtwo, and I walked for an hour because the weather was magnificent. We were supposed to have dinner with my parents, but my father wasn't feeling well and thought he might be contagious, though I saw my mother because she brought us cookies.
We watched the season premiere of Blindspot, which I liked because of Jaimie Alexander kicking ass though the show needs to stop finding contrived ways to keep Jane and Kurt apart. Then we watched The Guernsey Literary & Potato Peel Pie Society, which has lots of Downton Abbey actors and is quite enjoyable though a lot of the darker aspects of the story are kind of glossed over to keep the focus on the relationships. Because I am missing the beach, here are photos of the white cliffs of Étretat in Normandy: