Monday, November 19, 2007

Out in the pale blue twilight with P, photographing the now mostly skeletal trees, singing 'Pale Blue Eyes' quietly to myself.

Funny always finding new cracks in the songs one knows very well to nestle oneself into, thinking about Benjamin talking about how love hides in the imperfections of one's beloved like little birds, can't remember the exact quote, getting old.

Henry's mom got through her operation OK.

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