Every normal man must be tempted at times to spit on his hands, hoist the black flag, and begin to slit throats.

H. L. Mencken

Well. the morning brings warmer air and dripping walls. Spent the night in the bunker escaping from the planet earth and soaring into outer space. An amazing thing the imagination. Now matter how bad things get, I can always escape by closing my eyes.

Sadly, reality has a way of crashing back through the walls of the bunker.

the strobing of the magic box is casting weird shadows on the wall this morning. Images of planes crashing, bombs exploding, and radioactive planes. When did the world become an Ian Fleming novel?

Sitting here drinking the coffee, pondering the clouds and wondering what surprises they bring today. We truly are slaves to the elements.