When I'm in the garden and I look up to see the tower, it's as if it simply appeared there overnight, like from outer space, or another dimension, though I've watched it grow from a hole in the ground for the last five years. I wonder if it will always be so ominous. It has an invasive aura of evil. I suppose I'll get used to it, if I live that long.

 A cat is like a secret self you are compelled to pet. A cat appreciates your secret life.

Writers grow up with permeable selves, and the very process of secrecy feels familiar.

Writers begin as readers, and words become a means of survival. At some juncture deep within family life, the child sees in written language a way to embrace her own burden. When I was young, words themselves seemed secret because I read them in my mind and no one else could hear.

Jayne Anne Phillips

Small Town Girls

—When I read this the second time, I recall my young self reading something and then looking around to see if anyone heard my thoughts, and wondering if I had read them out loud.

 The sculpture, Torch Song, has been wrapped in plastic twice, and today it looks like she's being burnished with a torch. 

 Turkey vulture over the Obamachron.

 Thankee, Georgia, for the lovely and delicious plant you brung me! Love and kisses, Olive Palestine