July 2, 2015 by veritasxlogos. Her whiteness, illuminated by a motion sensor light. Stood out in the darkness. With all the fragility of a lighting bolt in the sky. Fit among the stars and moon. If not fit among the beach by day. She pined for the cold embrace. Unpreparedness, if not several champagne flutes,. To escape the buzzing well-lit hive. Carved into the cliff and the ability to. With a spot light at her back.

Thursday, August 9, 2012. Paris Through the Night, Part 2. Eventually I made may over to Montmartre. A long funicular railway winds its way up to the church, but the line was of course closed for the night. I had a long walk up the stairs to the top. When I got there, the sun was coming up and this place, the best vantage point in Paris, was deserted.

Voices That Must Be Heard. From now on you can find my blogging over there. No more of this cross-posting silliness. I apologize to those offended by the prospect of having to click over to another page, but I like living the dangerous life.