For last year's words belong to last year's language
And next year's words await another voice.
And to make an end is to make a beginning.

-- T.S. Eliot

even in South Carolina











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Dear Gmail: Happy new year! Please load now.

Dobrovolets on JS Foer; Foer on Hanukkah Harry and other justifications

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Quick internet from SC, which is beautiful. Photos upon return. Tomorrow, early swim and bike to breakfast. Rough life, this.

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Before I left, I looked everywhere twice for the damn padded envelope. No dice, no knife, no idea. It will be in plain sight when I get back, surely. What a mess. It will be found! and I will send it. In the meantime, I send my love and merry Christmas to one who used to nod toward Apollo and let the wind wrap kisses.

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Rainy-day women.