Walking Peretz through the Webs lot this morning, came across Holy Smokes in its new, truck-pulled form, photographer from the paper was there taking photographs, I took some too:







Risen from the ashes, reduced and mobile, a lot of that going around.

After that, despite best efforts, was nearly knocked flat on my back on ice by sweet, tuggy dog.

Halfway out of extreme black mood I found myself suddenly in yesterday evening, lingering effects of prolonged emotional abuse are a big drag for everybody, sorry about that, the way of Samsara, snapping turtles all the way down.