It is as if it were Monday, a box with its usual content spilled out and repurposed for pleasure and yet still it is the box it ever was, shaped by its workings. No matter the invitation to delicate pleasures, and leisurely excursion, it is a thing of hammer and sledge. The joy of heft and swing and ringing impact. And so I proceed as a company of builders, the each of us whistling.
Telling: Streams & Logs