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Dark Harbour.

Moody weather makes me feel more at home in the world. I yearn for strong winds and wild places. When the dark clouds require us to clear the deck and batten down the hatches I am yielding, happiest to be alive. A storm requires nothing of me; neither cheerfulness nor productivity. Perhaps it does require silence. And then there’s Dark Harbour. Grand Manan Island, a stone in the tide-torn mouth of the Bay of Fundy. Jake and I drive through a forest of cathedral spires, dark spruce on either side. We crest a hill, and layers of misty green woods stretch deep in every direction. Dipping down towards the pier with our windows open, gravel crunches under the wheels as we pull to a quiet stop on

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