Myself at Bass Coast this past year. © my friend Fraser (

“Start again.”

“I realized that everything moves, no matter how slow.”

“I forced myself to sit when I didn’t have to, and no longer dreaded the prospect.”

The chair I sat in to watch countless storms.

I felt a wave of hellfire resonate throughout my entire being, like every ounce of blood in my body had been replaced with molten lead.

A long-exposure captured on the eve of Day Seven.

“For the rest of the afternoon, I was able to immerse isolated parts of myself, sometimes all but my ears, into the pool again. Yet I never experienced it on the same scale.”

Was this it? Was this salvation? Was some terrible emergency back home liberating me from my struggles?

Every so often, I’d cheat, and listen to a few minutes of the radio.

“That night, I was visited by a host of most vicious temptations and distractions from the Path.”

A selfie from Day Two — one of only a handful of photos I’d furtively capture during the course.

Max Foley

Lord of Misrule / Cathartisan. @maxhfoley

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