Flat on his back with his hands clasped behind his head, Kaelen Vance crossed his ankles over the weathered edge of the garden raft as morning mist rose from Stone-Willow Lane.
Grey pond water rippled gently against the lashed cedar planks beneath him.
The raft was made of three discarded timber gates tied together with thick hemp rope, floating peacefully in the overgrown courtyard pond.
Lily pads bumped softly against the logs, and a pair of fat green frogs croaked from the tangled reeds.
Above him, pale grey autumn clouds drifted across the sky like sheep wandering through a mountain meadow.
Buoyancy was the ultimate manifestation of the Dao of indolence.
When you lay on a wooden raft, the water did all the heavy lifting for you.
You didn’t have to support your own spine or engage your core muscles.
