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Hold me underwater, not afraid of drowning
Rabbit, rabbit! I woke this morning with forsan et haec olim meminisse iuvabit running through my head like the stuck line of a song, which I'm not even sure what to do with. On the other hand, I also woke to a small black cat who crawled under the covers beside me and purred himself back to sleep, which feels like a better omen. The air and the light have changed just enough to feel like autumn, even on a drizzling day. Every year I observe it's the ghost-season, but that doesn't seem to stop it being true.
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Not at the time of Mahagonny, he hadn't. He didn't come to the U.S. until '41. And I have no idea if he visited Alabama even then.
But for a place with no barter economy, they got their hands on whiskey. So maybe little a barter, as a treat?
You know, it is immensely reassuring to me that even under the most stringent conditions, the black market springs eternal.