is this not a most perfect picture.
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last week's drama149, alex and i were goldfish; today, pacifist farmers in a world of war.
in the deep of winter the morning commute red dawn in rear-view mirror, today already the sky is light and clear before ever i step out the door.
outside last night, clear stars, walked into a melting snowbank.
a ten-page paper on christian existentialism due in six days, am not yet halfway through unending readings.
last night to noor's room to say goodnight, we listened to an installment from the 2005 massey lectures on ideas - they're running for the rest of the week, do try to catch them, they are words to bring tears to your eyes, overbrim and defy: it is stephen lewis. last night was africa, western hypocrisy, his passion and eloquence and urgent cry, will someone not step forward... knowledge itself, but he is a man who lives his plea, transforms the ear. through friday on cbc radio 1, 9-10pm.
