i see people acting funny alone facing the lake, yelling, singing, or having a dialogue with the waters or their ghosts.

and i'm one of them, talking to myself, picking up strange lost things, talking the dog, smiling at the dog's responses. we're maybe a loose tribe of singletons connected by wind and water and thin light.

i'm glad there are other weirdos when they are mild souls, but that violent sleeper, i shall grant her a wide berth.