We have a mouse. It is small and brown and quick. It appeared as if by magic at midnight on Hallowe'en and has reappeared every now and again since then. Last night I had an awful dream that I accidentally dropped it and its family down the stairs. None of our food has been tampered with and other than occasional scurries across the hall and scratching in the wall, there is no sign to say the mouse is there. I would feel awful to leave traps for such a well behaved house guest.
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I have mentioned this before, but I'd like to repeat myself, because now is the perfect time of year to introduce or reaquaint yourself with Into The Wild. I love it more than words could tell you. This painting is an old one by an old friend. He is the type of person who is quiet and contained, but has a spark about him that is what I think of when Jack Kerouac talks about people who "burn, burn, burn like fabulous yellow roman candles exploding like spiders across the stars".
I have mentioned this before, but I'd like to repeat myself, because now is the perfect time of year to introduce or reaquaint yourself with Into The Wild. I love it more than words could tell you. This painting is an old one by an old friend. He is the type of person who is quiet and contained, but has a spark about him that is what I think of when Jack Kerouac talks about people who "burn, burn, burn like fabulous yellow roman candles exploding like spiders across the stars".
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