The intertitles in our silent picture show
I am returned from Providence of much packing and reunited with my own cats whose warmth and weight and colony scent I have been missing, gracious hosts though Lydia and Selwyn were. I don't even want to think about the amount of work I will need to complete in the remaining days of this week, which is why I am going to bed. This message Autolycus-approved.



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(I don't have any more cat icons, I'm afraid! This owl will have to do.)
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I think so, too. But I am especially fond of ours. We got lucky.
I haven't come across the Jenny Linsky books before, though. I guess they don't have the same place in the British cultural consciousness as they do in the American.
They're very New York-based. I was delighted and surprised when the NYRB reprinted them because I had met almost no one outside my family who had read them growing up.
(I don't have any more cat icons, I'm afraid! This owl will have to do.)
It's a good owl! I just have the one cat icon myself and it doubles for queer and Jewish themes and general solidarity.