The baby octopus in my shirt drawer missed the ocean, but she doesn’t know how to tell me that, so I don’t know, and go on petting her head gently morning after morning as I open the drawer and choose that day’s shirt.
Zermatt lies at the end of a narrow valley, near the base of the Matterhorn, and life in the village unfolds in the mountain’s majestic presence. Throughout a day, if it is not completely obscured by clouds . . .