"but when I try to imagine a faultless love / or the life to come, what I hear is the murmur"

Year's Long Night has ended, locally, with the sun's return on a cold but not frosty morning. The trees are restless, promising a warmish wind later today. All in all, a promising solstice. Good wishes to all who have survived it.

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When I was boy, jeans first wore out in my knees. As a young man, it was in the seat. Now, it's between my thighs. I'm not sure what to make of this, but the progression is amusing.

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I can't describe Edward Gorey's Little Red Riding-hood as the most dubious version ever, even when directed by the Wolf to some flowers. But her expression is up there.

---L.