11.25.25 Second time around hits the same and on and on, “Que onda guero?” This time hard lead clouds and soft focus shutter. Into stone into color. But time for a real ending: think of the beginners mind. 11.23.25 The would-be-hombre at the bar, too-cheerful dark-shadow. Does it smell like rain? Drink. House gin okay? Of course it is — in this one. A second drink for Saturn’s second lap. Old and new. The drink and the man. This one was different, but we both are now. “But I Was Different”. I preferred “Night of the Assassins” anyway. A quick stop, “is it raining again”. No, but it smells like it all the same. A different creature here he says. Maybe it’s nice to think when you think nobody else is looking. I think sometimes if this is paradise, maybe I’d like a lawnmower. And again fields fields fields of flowers flowers flowers And there was that one thing - not a question. But you paused and thought only for a second and it was business as usual. I wonder if it’ll come up again. I hope so. Flowers Flowers Flowers 11.14.25 Needles, Knives, and Fields and Fields and Fields of Flowers Flowers Flowers 11.8.25 Days are shorter than ever. I spend them in bliss and cast over by waves and waves. 11.06.25 Oh to live forever as a virtual butterfly 17.17.17 I. x II. xx III. xxx 11.4.25 What a grim day. Grey steel clouds etc. I spent the evening listening to offkilter wonderful songs strange and melancholy and alive, and outside the rain poured down. Still hungry and looking. I wonder what the future holds. I think a lot these days of lenses, lenticular clouds and different names for you. You remind me of yourself from long ago, back before we ever met. And myself before I ever met myself. I wonder why. The fog rolled in, and the songs kept playing. Dinner arrives, and it must rest too, and it is in this quiet moment between cooking and being gone that I am right now. I don't know if I'll tell you about this one, but I am so happy #111177 #111177 #111177 #111177 #111177 #111177 11.2.25 The first of 127 days of sunset. Rocks take up the tables. There are still reminders everywhere. My voice faded to a whisper last night, but I could never stop talking to you. 10.31.25 High Altitude Turbulence. Sanguine Dusk. Etherial, Unreal. They don’t make em like this anymore, old habits - new breed. Staring down the barrel of 1000 perfect days. A head full of flowers. Right where they belong. And we might spend our time in this thoughtful garden. 10.30.25 Sundog Rainbow. Afternoon Atmospherics. These are, I think, the days of feast and fortune. 10.30.25 I guess I’m saying when it’s on it’s on. 10.29.25 I am so full of flowers 10.29.25 A brighter world unfurls before me 10.28.25 Into perfect blue forever #0085ca ##231F20 10.28.25 A time to gather stones together #0085CA 10.28.25 I'm glad I slowed down. Otherwise, I never would have noticed. #3d1397, #11164f, #2596be, #20241c, #433c91, #d2d9f4 10.28.25 Listening to the sounds from old games. Sculpting. Meditating. The sunlight on the pine tree as glistening needles. Clouds grow on the horizon. Talking to @sh9h. The first good sleep of the week. Motivated but not overeager. We are all artists. 10.27.25 There's something starting. Let's take our shoes off and unwind.