The following entry was written Thursday, November 17, 2016: I’m sitting on the dock of Smith Mountain Lake. The chill in the evening air set in abruptly. The waves from a passing boat rocked the dock slightly. A dog barked in the distance. I am conditioned - like one of Pavlov’s dogs - to pick up my iPhone minutes after I just put it down. I “need” to check Instagram or the news or… something. A digital glance turns into several minutes wasted, every time. So I decided to be quiet. To be still. To just look at the pinkening sky and the hypnotic rippling. In the distance, a boat’s motor is heard before the boat itself becomes visible. The mechanical sound is an interruption to the quietness of Smith Mountain Lake here in Virginia.
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