An inevitable cool is upon us, and here I don't mean swishing around in winkle-picker shoes, handing out Gauloises from a silver monographed cigarette case. I mean the kind of cool that's better reflected by hunting down cigarette butts and rolling paper.
The period of winter always seems hungry, its energies more desperate. And yet
when you think of what a long summer of drought can do to land, a mind has to
pause, consider the little things, permit our own place in the world to accept
insignificance. Which isn't something we're very good at doing.