Towers and Clouds
The Tower is the perfect card for this moment: hubris stacked on hubris stacked on hubris never ends well. Just don’t get confused about who the message of disaster is for. It’s the people who build the towers and try to shoot God in the face who see everything they hold dear collapse. And they deserve the fall.
(Ink on Paper, 365 book)
Bundled
It was a balmy 20°F tonight; 38 degrees warmer than two days ago. To celebrate, the neighbors and I walked our dogs down the street together, as an impromptu parade in the winter dark.
(Digital)
I feel like I should add something of depth to the above paragraph. But that seems like a lie or, maybe, an inelegant attempt at linguistic finesse. If you see the meaning in the statement, telling you about it is insulting. If you don’t, then telling you about it is a waste of my fucking time.
And yours. Who’s got time to spare these days for anything less than natural synergy? Not me. It’s dark, it’s cold; I’m very much not in the mood.
