Synchronicity in Brief

The evening Southwesterly carries at its edges a distinct sense of inevitability. Descriptors I have assigned to its movements, to its sounds and to its accompanying scents bestow upon it an undeniable significance. Breeze, whistle, howl, brine, fuel, summer. Subjective experience, the only one that I can say with any confidence exists, reassures me that synchronicity is in operation at all times, my only responsibility to become aware of it’s ebb and flow.

M