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Eating water

They were presented to her in a cup, a clump of plump verdant grapes.

As we sat outside, sunning ourselves in this environmentally tragic unseasonally hot Parisian day of mid-October (22 degrees Celsius), she said, I keep wanting to drink my grapes.

What a vision. But this is what my life feels like these days. I am trying to make sense of containers I am not used to. New personalities from different cultures. New projects with tentacles that stretch outwards and tangle.

I'm moving about in different ways as well. The other day, I signed up for the city bike service (velib) and realized how much I loved scooting around on two wheels but felt simultaneously vulnerable with the giant buses behind me and invincible with the wind blowing in my face. Like I could get squished...but would be feeling very free and happy just before I was.

How long does something new become something we know by heart? How long do you need to spend with people to really know them? How about systems that are also alive, shifting and changing. Morphing. How about teams? Each member and the collective dynamic that ebbs and flows, feeding off energy, frustration, progress, and success.

They were presented to her in a cup. The grapes she wanted to drink. And I thought, it's OK.

These are days in which we drink our grapes, and eat our water.

One day, it will all make sense.