Dusky may well be the tendrils of the vine, but dusty, bien sûr, are the mandibles of the bee.
Summer has installed itself and the world has come to gawp. Except, that is Minou the famous cow cat who is more intent in becoming a threadbare rug.
Ponder for a moment the souls of myriads of insects humming along to the sounds of eternity in their short lived lives.
What music compared to the cacophony of human existence. Man that bloated, bleating megaphone of destruction.
There, I'm feeling better already. More mopané worm vicar?
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