We'll be on that section of I-68 about three hours after I've plunged publish on this post, taking Planet back to Bamgier, so travelogue next two, three days. Earthgirl got a new camera for her birthday yesterday, I need some new paintings to post here. No time to read last night, this morning, so no links today. New Ivy?
I hope my death is not stolen from me by a fiery blast of Fahrenheit or Celsius or another calculatable accuracy. I will gladly relinquish all the pleasures of daily bread, the pride and dreams of art—even pulse; but I hope my death will not be taken from me. Actually, it is a modest policy; little there to discuss as to solace or in the way of privacy. A valued moment of self-possession? Might it be something to embrace more than to expulse? I hope my death will not be pried from me. My end is not to be just a cause in a public sea of scientists teaming against a disease, a private point in a welter of piracy. After all, won't it fundamentally and rightly be mine and no one else's? I hope my death is not taken from me; better, it be an appointment kept in a private sea.