Trading Punches

There isn't much to report since the last post. More of the Hamilton, awash now in repetition, giving some authority to the dismissive. I remain hooked. I have pondered Orwell's Aspidistras and his mumbling bookseller. The latest chapters have yielded further tenebrous banks of isolation suddenly pierced by the attentions of unabashed agent of exploitation.

There is a sniff of isolation on the samizdat front, as well, as ice reigns and several folks have declined their chance to select.