Thus he died, and all the life struggled out of him;
And as he died he spattered me with the dark red
And violent driven rain of bitter savored blood
To make me glad, as gardens stand among the showers,
Of god in glory at the birth time of the buds.
Today was spent outside in the sun reading Walt Whitman, Montaigne’s essays and remembering Hamlet, followed by a boxing class in the evening. awesome day.
i cannot wait to move so our kitchen will always be like so: