An old drawing, recently rediscovered.
And here we are, still banished to the land of wind and ghosts.
I feel I’ve fairly jinxed something by quoting that passage from Hemingway a ways back; while we’ve not had too much in the way of rain, we’ve yet to meet that “night of warm wind” that brings in the Springtime. Just persistent cold nightly, even on days of warm sunshine. It feels like punishment, or penance.
The only consolation is that we are hurtling headlong toward May, so we tell ourselves that surely this can’t last. A cold comfort though (both literally and figuratively), as April is wasted by too much time spent indoors, too inactive.
e daggar art: THE MUSEUM 