an image diary

"And if he left off dreaming about you, where do you suppose you'd be? ... You'd be nowhere. Why, you're only a sort of thing in his dream! If that there King was to wake you'd go out -- bang! -- just like a candle!"

"Hush! You'll be waking him, I'm afraid, if you make so much noise."

"Well it's no use your talking about waking him when you're only one of the things in his dream. You know very well you're not real."

Wednesday, August 10, 2005

Stormy out there.

Things explode here and here and elsewhere--and I hold my breath, as when swimming underwater. I have been swimming underwater lately, skimming the bottom of the pool in the short life breath has on the rare days when a car is free and lightning is far enough away.

To all of you, I couldn't keep up with your kindness: thank you.

"and also that they were able to cure stammering with a kiss."

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . flying fish . . . . . .

"and what is the use of a book...without pictures or conversations?"

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