Looking up at the now blue sky through the train window, I spy a long, high trail of cirrus cloud that resembles nothing so much as a feather boa. Laughing softly to myself, I imagine the celestial striptease artist, peeling to the music of the spheres while an appreciative audience of angels look on.
We all have those moments of grace where the heavens conspire to deliver a slice of life too good to ignore. This blog is a receptacle for mine. Expect random (in every sense) observations, miraculous mundanities, and crimes against fashion; if it tickles me, I'll post it, as and when, no pressure.
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