It's getting harder and harder for me to think of things I can write here that won't feel like an overstepping of boundaries. But they're my boundaries, which have become increasingly easy to discern with the passage of years. The pacing I do back and forth along their perimeter has doubled as road-building. I could decide to change the map, but it takes longer to undo injuries of habit than to produce them. Sometimes I have the impulse to get out the breaking bar and till the soil with savage force. What I lack is the will to amplify that impulse into progress.