Portion of Just Before Sunrise,
Jean Baptiste Camille Corot,
The Art Institute of Chicago.
Yes, I know. The blog title deserved a pole dancer or a go-go girl or a semi-nude, but my thoughts run down multiple paths this morning and no amount of mouse and click will arrange them in logical order.
Was so proud when I (finally) learned how to cut 'n paste, but discovered in revision and re-arrangement of passages in WIPs that ease -- as in all things -- makes for carelessness. One must watch for missed punctuation, impecunious spacing, and violent verbal disagreements.
And thinking of violence, Bernard has begun a noir serial on his blog. The violence is lovely.
I love this world. This world is so beautiful, from dawnlight to noonbright to owllight. The scent from the ivory silk steals through my window with morningshine and makes patterns on my walls like leaves.
My computer screen is another window, a portal place from my tower to a wider world. Some of you walked in my dreams last night. Probably because Weirdly II: Eldritch released yesterday.
In yesterday's velvet dusk, so soft and deep and purpledark, a whip-poor-will sang somewhere like the shade of a lost love. Coleridge once said he didn't believe in ghosts -- because he'd seen too many of them.
And I am like a ghost in this machine.