Ranchlands Review

In Pursuit of Radical Joy

Time stopped, we say, in moments of great joy or sorrow, but don’t we really mean that a moment of time imprinted itself on us, left its mark on us in such a way that the call of the Osprey as the sun fell into the Pacific, or the slosh of the green waves against the orange walls of the sand caves, or the rhythm of Raj’s hooves as we floated above a hundred thousand flowers, those things are not just part of my memory bank but part of my body as well.

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