This isn’t a very deep story. It’s just a romance. Some superhero and animal writers have been telling me that “It’s got to be about the entertainment.” Which usually means “I want lots and lots of explosions.”
The other end of the spectrum is lots of lots of kisses. I am a simple creature.
Lord, it’s the 27th, and the beach, while beautiful, has that weird after-Christmas light — but only looking to the east. You know the light; low, clear, bright, flat, as though watching a photograph from our childhood come vaguely to light. I’m glad it was as cold as it was; we in our fifth decade begin to suffer from nostalgia. It’s not helping, going through a life-time’s photos for processing into digital and online (just in case) and seeing all those dead or gone people and animals. No, I don’t revel in depression like I did when I was a teen, but it’s a pit that’s hard to keep from tripping into. I work at it!
Dan just put Hidden Fortress in the VCR. When in doubt, turn to Kurosawa. That’s it, hit him with a stick!
