The standards of death taken down by surprise
I saw the neurosurgeon this afternoon and no longer need to stick my head annually in a magnetic noise machine. This is great news.
The wood of what remains of the sugar maple smells cold and sweet. I am told it may turn into planks. Behind it may be seen Rosabella the late-blooming dogwood and the as yet nameless infant elm.
P.S. I don't know what happened with the international mail, but my late-breaking parental Christmas present of Fiona Moore's The Black Archive #43: The Robots of Death (2020) just arrived along with a beautiful art-enclosing solstice card from![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
radiantfracture, so I don't begrudge it in the slightest.
The wood of what remains of the sugar maple smells cold and sweet. I am told it may turn into planks. Behind it may be seen Rosabella the late-blooming dogwood and the as yet nameless infant elm.
P.S. I don't know what happened with the international mail, but my late-breaking parental Christmas present of Fiona Moore's The Black Archive #43: The Robots of Death (2020) just arrived along with a beautiful art-enclosing solstice card from
radiantfracture, so I don't begrudge it in the slightest.