My little brother with our cousin’s little girl, Kaitlyn.
New sheets, courtesy of my stepbro.
Cherries!!! From my very own cherry tree!!!!
This is my beautiful feral Maine coon, Calcifer. She lives with my girlfriend, so I can’t see her all I want, but isn’t she beautiful?
Doesn’t an old thing always know when a new thing comes? (…) I believe in the things that were done, and there are evidences of many things done on Mars. There are streets and houses, and there are books, I imagine, and big canals and clocks and places for stabling, if not horses, well, then some domestic animal, perhaps with twelve legs, who knows? Everywhere I look I see things that were used. They were touched and handled for centuries. Ask me, then, if I believe in the spirit of the things as they were used, and I’ll say yes. They’re all here. All the things which had uses. All the mountains which had names. And we’ll never be able to use them without feeling uncomfortable. And somehow the mountains will never sound right to us; we’ll give them new names, but the old names are there, somewhere in time, and the mountains were shaped and seen under those names. The names we’ll give to the canals and mountains and cities will fall like so much water on the back of a mallard. No matter how we touch Mars, we’ll never touch it. And then we’ll get mad at it, and you know what we’ll do? We’ll rip it up, rip the skin off, and change it to fit ourselves.
Spender, from The Martian Chronicles by Ray Bradbury
Science and machines can kill each other off or be replaced. Myth, seen in mirrors, incapable of being touched, stays on. If it is not immortal, it almost seems such.
Ray Bradbury, Martian Chronicles introduction