fuck the fiercest fables

When I say that ecstatic baby skunks lurch out of the undergrowth and chase me a while on my runs, sometimes I think people don't believe me. These little guys were the size of my hand and looked and acted like kittens. When I stopped to take the picture, they seemed mad that I wasn't running to chase and started fighting with each other instead.

Thornrose is like a Spirited Away landscape in the evening. Kicking up hares and skunks and dodging crows, trying not to trip when the landscape abruptly jerks downward, careening around beeches that are three times the size of me. As dusk falls, the fireflies come out, and there are so many, it reminds me of South Boston. There are so many that they hit my body as I run through them.

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It was a good weekend to be camping under the full blue moon. When it rose, it turned on like a spotlight. The whole woods lit up bone white. One of my friends brought out a telescope and we took turns peeping at it. It was bright enough that after you looked, you had to reel back and rub your eye. A little moon blind, I guess.

If I was going to ruminate on my reflections for this cycle, I did have that sense of feeling the fullest of something, seeing clearly. Talk about your moon-blind; I guess it made me wonder if I was not getting a little tired of always coming on so strong in...I dunno, my whole life.

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Lithics, though, darling.