Somewhere near serenity or arrest, today’s template for all the days behind and for many in front: inchoate dreams, coffee, a bit of reading (Joe Donahue’s splendid new book The Disappearance of Fate), desultory work, Zoom with students, boxing in the basement, leftovers for lunch, more work, rain, a walk along the shore listening to Emmanuel Ax and Yo-Yo Ma playing Rachmaninoff’s Cello Sonata, watching the lake pitch up oceanic waves, home to cook lentil sausage stew, watching Some Like It Hot with my daughter for the second time this week. The world goes away; you were never really here.