Friday. I did get up and go to the morning café for breakfast, but then came home and crashed for three hours before getting up again at noon. Which is about right, arriving home last night as I did after midnight. Late, tired, but faculties relatively whole. Exotic doings for an old coot, don't you think?
A really excellent dinner yesterday, by the way.
Later. It's four in the afternoon. My, my. It was noon not but a minute ago, although breakfast this morning occurred somewhere back in the mist, I must admit, could have been days ago from all my brain is able to reassemble. Which for today, I'm thinking, is good. You'd pay money for a pill that would do that on a day where maybe you'd just like to float, slowly glue your act back together for the weekend. Don't you think?
You've wandered off the path here sport.
Indeed. The brain. Together. The brain back together. Making the pieces fit. If they fit.
A couple of pictures at the dinner last night, nothing too ambitious, which would make a fitting epitaph to my photography. “Nothing too ambitious” was his wont. My wont. Given the choice between a glass of wine and a shutter button he chose the wine with never a second look. Clearness of purpose. Rare in this life. His life.
I think it's time to stop.