[Just like a] Fox in the snow... (you're going nowhere).

I don't feel like learning anything in a while now. That's going to be a problem. I don't feel like going to bed either. That's not going to be a problem until tomorrow morning, and I have been known several times before not to count tomorrow morning as relevant. I have also been known several times to adress myself in harsh words &/or curses. But that's another story.



My kitchen has been invaded by books & light & music & dancing & old men with a taste for pilars & arches. Which is a taste as understandable as any other, don't get me wrong. Just not the same pilars & arches over & over again. I mean, even the old druids had sense enough to at least change the shapes of the stones once in a while, & they were into herbs & stabbing people in the heart. (Much like a good many boys I've met, come to think about it.) If you can make a ring of stones diverse, I don't see any valid excuses for the Vetruvius groupies. Due to certain circumstances, I don't think they really care what I think. But I am dangerously close to a variaty of non-hostile sensations towards my dear old friend Corb right now, & I don't like it one bit, but - at least the man wasn't boring, I'll give him that much. Then again - neither am I, & I don't see any chapters about me in any 'illustrated guide to 1000 years of architecture'. Or any other books for that matter. Maybe it's because I'm not 123 years old.

Maybe it's because I need a better name.

'Le... Fox'?

Hm. It definitely has a certain ring to it. Yes. I like it. Le Fox. 'IDIOTERNAS ÅRHUNDRADE', here I come.

Alas, they're both empty.

I wish time could stop for awhile. Just a short break, nothing much, nothing extraordinary. Just a little time to get into the habit of breathing again, you know? Maybe it could wait for me for once, instead of the other way around. It's a funny bussiness, this tick-tock-thing. This waiting/wanting/wishing/washing/ wondering to that steady beat. Tick-tock, tack tack. Good night, good luck, come again. No, I won't be going anywhere, see, I'll take what I can get. But I figure seconds will be sweeter once spring comes around. The air softer, thoughts lighter, sky brighter. I figure nothing can get worse of a few more sun-hours around, & as I recall it, previous experienses in the matter agrees with me. After all, I can feel the words lurking at my fingertips once again, & I'm pretty damn sure it can only get better from here.

& in any case, there will always be brick walls. As long as I have brick walls, & an occasional dead tree in front of them, I will be alright.

Now all i have to do is persuade the crow with the wiry legs to risk a toss. Because I do need those keys.

Peace, &
understatements.

/ D.