Additional morning.

The morning, 6:00 A.M.

Night, the sharp edge of.

4:15 P.M.

First runners-up.

Bloom of the day.

Sorry to report that Tracy Kidder has died. He was a fine writer and a classmate of mine at the Iowa Writers’ Workshop. One more keen consciousness gone . . .

Ciao for now.

There are limits for a reason (which is why we must exceed them).

Ha!

It's glass.

Whew! A little bit cheaper in this house, but still . . .

I like your comparison. Exactly right. So why not drink wine and stretch out in the sun with a good book?

A lot packed into so tiny a receptacle, no?

Yes, the author lives in a rat home designed by FLLW. I have translocated 391 of them over the years, but for the last year or so very few have turned up.

Well, I am going to New York for this one--and the L.A. Times Book Fest. But the multi-city exhausting tours are a thing of the past. I did 75 cities, here and abroad, for "Drop City."

Danke. If I remember, I'll send some back.

What happy dogs!

How could you resist those bananas?

If there is, he's stalking my neighbor. Probably using her toilet too.

Yes, but how many bottles do we have to get through?

Whew!

Yep. Add the scents and the sound of the surf . . .

Even at night? Under your pillow?

Yes! It's high time, isn't it?

Did he like the Kurosawa?

Inside the newspaper. À bas le roi!

The egg.

Another, less fuzzy, view.

The dog, receiving messages.