“There’s no doubt that he’s heading straight for tragedy. It will be beautiful, of course, but should he throw his whole life away as a sacrificial offering to such a fleeting beauty–like a bird in flight glimpsed from a window?” ~Yukio Mishima Spring Snow

Fleeting beauty–like the glass of absinthe that I just finished. Like the Bach cello suites to which I am now listening. Like the sunset that I missed because I was grading papers. Like my American Spirit cigarettes, which still smoke longer than most cigarettes. Like last night’s Samba dance lesson.

To the Beauty Who does not flee–You know my prayer.