Possibly an experience in common with many others: it always astounds me how one small act can turn around the force of an otherwise bad day. The completion of song lyrics. The writing of a poem. Writing the beginning of a story. Looking up and noting that the first of the jacarandas are blooming. It’s as though these things melt back the melancholy like the sun does snow, and suddenly, stiffly, haltingly, I can move again.