texture 2, true, exhalations

The texture of sunbeds 2. Stacked.

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When I assert the truth of a proposition I have often noticed that it immediately seems to be less true than I thought it was at the time of formulating the words. There seems to be a hiatus between the conception and the expression, a hiatus into which doubt has flowed. I am glad therefore that I am not, nor ever have been, nor ever want to be a politician. For politicians have to defend their propositions all the time and are forced to negotiate the devious paths of compromise to achieve what become inevitably limited aims. Not that one should condemn politicians whose profession is burdened by so much responsibility. It is a necessary profession. Somebody has got to do the job. It simply strikes me as I listen to them, what a beautiful thing it is not to have practice their irksome trade.
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To walk, this afternoon, in the fine, warm rain and smell the oils and resins in the exhalations of earth, grass and the leaves.