Cash. Johnny Cash. Green, of the Al. Music with my morning coffee.

The end of the Alphabet and that place is both grief and it's end. Book of my morning book.

Violin discovery. Violent discovery that a string so beautiful as the human voice. I bow low to you of the string, Itzhak Perlman.

The endless bare back of a man when it is endless and bare. Beautiful I scream and breathe.

Red mittens I am spirit but unable to button my shirt.

Last but not least,

So a person having neither home nor country can still experience the characteristic stirrings of love for these things, even when they lack an object and persist therefore as yearnings without fulfillment. -- Max Scheler