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."

Thursday, December 21, 2006

. . . .


Or incapable, as it turns out.


The car is loaded, but I'm straggling. Something about needing proof of insurance in the car before taking off. Something a fax can take care of, but just a bit too late in the day. So, reluctant to hit 90 where the deer stand in the highway and the darkness closes in for hours without another car passing, I'll wait until 2 or 3 this morning to leave for my mother's home.


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

[contact me:]

what o'clock it is


live flowers