carrying on from the last post, and because acd featured in a remarkable way in this.
where we got to hear about and see a great many instances of spirit photography right down from the middle of the nineteenth to the first half of the twentieth century. i wondered for a long time that a very reasoned and rational person is, of course, just as susceptible to losing a son in the trenches, and having no way to get that son back physically ever after, as anyone else. and that he wishes to reach out, possibly, as much as the next person does. so many people lost so much. (here, some of the much older people, for instance, never take their poppies off. some of them are wearing their poppy still, although 11 november is long gone.) and then, the 'extras', the 'ectploasm', the 'ether', the 'other', the 'one's very own' appeared beside their loved ones in the photographs.

strange leisure. but i have grown to like the strange friendship. and brilliant writing. no getting around that.

elections (which i had not thought to take this kind of interest over) and fireworks (sans any guys) over.

christ's is pretty. but to me special for strange reasons. their year.