Sunday, July 26, 2009


"...its shell as rusty
as a camp dish,
as fragile as a pagoda
on a stone..."

From "Letter Written on a Ferry While Crossing Long Island Sound" by Anne Sexton


Back from the biz trip, and foo -- caught a summer cold. Lost my voice during Day Two of the trade show (or rather, gained a weirdly squeaky croak.) Still feeling punk, although drinking ginger tea and petting the cats helps.

I'm glad you stopped by, but don't get too close -- I might sneeze, and I'd hate for you to catch what I have.


steven said...

so many textures i can feel with my eyes fingers. the little text dances right on top of this image. nice. steven

lowenkopf said...

Oh, that's for me. I do like the play of themes here. Like a Beethoven symphony.

More to the point,glad you're out and about. Was beginning to experience some withdrawal.

Dale said...

Oh, get better soon!

Lori Witzel said...

Hi gents!

Steven -- I am so glad I've given your eyes' fingers something to dance with! Thanks for coming back 'round.

Shelly -- Wish I was out and about, but I've been too snotty. This is the last from my last picture outing, so I am crossing my fingers all will be well enough this coming weekend for a fast wander.

Dale -- I hear dat, and am dosing myself with fluids to that end. If I were in your neck of the woods, would stop by for a healing massage once I quit making hacking noises.

Unknown said...

Sorry to hear you have the plague ... the squeaky croak part is no fun.

jarvenpa said...

Petting cats helps with many things. Feel better soon.