13.

We have flooded. I am listening to the sounds of my wife bailing us out. The scrape of the metal dustpan on the rough concrete floor, rhythmic & with a little ring to it, then the emptying of the bucket, repeat.

It has happened before but never this bad. We are thinking of buying a proper bailer, whatever they actually use on boats. Is it a flood of emotion, I wonder, the return of primordial powers?

Does the earth weep for the world? How are we to dry such tears? She keeps on bailing out, the wind blowing through the house is a kind of keening. Should I say something about the songs you sent me in the night?