looking back i see how ill mister was. at the time i saw but thought it's old age suddenly weighing him down. now he's sprung back and i think something was wrong, he wasn't just suddenly old. i know he is old, but he's nimble and lively now, and on yet another dreary wet and cold chicago day i celebrate him keeping on. he's a blessed mystery, like life.
r. returned my camera. maybe it will be fixed, or maybe replaced. thank you honey girl. 
when i went home i finally got my other olympus i never used because it was too fancy and not shock and waterproof. i will get pictures today unless it pours. 
i read about the war industry and the art world particularly the whitney, and i feel sick. i wonder how many elite cultural institutions are glitzy screens around death for profit, suffering, war carnage, and state terror?