Brushing ash from your hair, comparing alibis
I loved Sylvia Townsend Warner's Mr Fortune's Maggot (1927) and The Salutation (1932), handily collected into one volume by the NYRB (although I prefer the cover of the edition I have), but most things are pretty terrible right now.
nineweaving scanned me a photo of Ralph Richardson circa David Storey's Home (1970).

It does not make everything better, but it's really nice.
derspatchel told her I would hang it on my wall if it were a real portrait. I probably would.
![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)

It does not make everything better, but it's really nice.
![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
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We could probably make that happen. Scientists have told of such processes!
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. . . Bemused, numinous golem?
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I continue to like Ralph Richardson's face, even if he didn't. I miss mine.
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Thank you. They are both very good things!
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A better scan of that photograph can be procured, with more d.p.i.
Nine
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It was beautifully written, subversive, and bittersweet. What's not to love?
A better scan of that photograph can be procured, with more d.p.i.
Prrrrrrrrrrrrt.