In recognition of the perhaps brief arrival of summer.
In the evening sun the air is starry with winged things.
Suddenly this week has come to be (in small part) about Shakespeare: King Lear at the Globe last night; Richard III at a Cambridge college tonight. Our rush hour is less crazy-making than London's, that's for certain. I spent a Tube trip yesterday evening closer to five strangers than I've been to even my loved ones any time in years.
And this work of revision-construction? My ideas are crystallizing, and I am coming to believe once more that this project is going to be viable and exciting--even to me, who have to write it. Obviously the only way to celebrate is to spend a second night in a row watching a king gone wrong.