The moon is half empty, the sun is too bright

Close to sunset, we got out of the house for a walk, which was very pleasant except I would estimate that a full three-quarters of the people we met were not wearing masks of any kind, even under the nose, and I hated them all on sight. Somerville is a nice blaring red on the daily average case rate and climbing. But the summer's over, so isn't the pandemic, too? In other news, we are finally getting our flu shots this week.

( Will two halves make a door or will we fall through the floor? )

I feel I should warn people that photography is likely to become scarce to nonexistent around this journal in the near future, as it appears that over the last three years I have almost entirely maxed out my image-hosting quota on DW and I really do not wish to go back through older posts and riddle the record with holes by pulling out the pictures to make room. I am extremely upset about this situation. Any part of my life I made visible here was, one way or another, important to me. I have to hope whatever I had to show was worth it while it lasted. The human refrain. SOME ANONYMOUS BENEFACTOR JUST BOUGHT ME A PREMIUM ACCOUNT WHICH HAS NOT MAXED OUT ITS IMAGE-HOSTING QUOTA AND I APPRECIATE IT VERY MUCH THANK YOU I HOPE YOU LIKE FLOWERS AND MY WEIRD FACE.

Things I did not expect to find while looking for more information about the author of The Heart in Exile (1953): RPF with the Cambridge Five. What a fantastic world we live in sometimes.

Would you turn me away if the walls were all I could see in your face?

I do somewhat resent that the first time I remember my dreams in weeks, they are nightmares about attending a convention, having to fight off a serial killer, and then contracting some kind of life-threatening alien infection, which is definitely way too high a ratio of pulp to anxiety if you ask me.

On the other hand, I spent much of the afternoon being interviewed by a grad student for her master's thesis in folklore: she is studying the music of Jewish partisans in WWII and the creation of liminal spaces through song and I felt like a one hundred and ten percent ringer and I had a wonderful time.

The recording I made for Jeannelle M. Ferreira can now be found with author's notes on her blog: "October Ghosts and Minor Resurrections: An Audio Excerpt."

The world continues fractured and frightening, but people build fires, and within the circle of the light, even if only for a little while, things may be all right.