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Earlier this week, on my drive home from the studio, I noticed the cobalt sky on the western horizon. The moon was slung low, dark and heavy like a candied orange slice. I thought at first that it was the Cheshire’s smile, but it was just the moon, extraordinary in its changeable constancy. I tried to catch a picture, although I knew it was pointless: the night was too dark, the city too bright. The only picture I have is in memory, an entire realm of changeable constancy.
Ready or not, 2012, here we do come, there we do go.
