|Licorice ferns recall Medusa's tangled locks|
Anyone who listens at all to the news knows there is a crisis in Pakistan. Monsoon rains are drowning the country. The Indus River, on the banks of which rose some of the earliest civilizations, more than 5000 years ago, has run amok. Some 20 million people are displaced.
Imagine a Texas-sized population with nowhere to go.
The thought of that horror fills me with humble gratitude and with pity. I've got to dig up a little scratch somewhere, cut a check to Catholic Relief Services or Red Crescent.
There was a good game of basketball in the park. Full court, five-on-five. These guys ran plays. They communicated, worked together. Young men full of the joy of competition. It was a pleasure to watch.
|"Away with thee, and thy pesky camera!"|
My neighbor's cat was having a snooze in the driveway. He blinked an admonishment at me when I stopped to take his picture.
There is nothing so tragic as a cat's dream, interrupted.
This particular dream was of a shady patio with a clear blue pool where goldfish, fat and solemn, idly fanned pectoral fins just below the surface, upon which was reflected the whiskered mien of the dreamer, eyelids half-dropped, drowsy, only just revealing yellow-green irises within which a sliver of black pupil offered a tunnel into the placid brain, lulled and fascinated by the fluid arc made by goldfish fins as they fanned...