Music by Prospero.
Socks by Ariel (eventually).
He drove home that evening, discomfited by the slow crawl of the traffic, and upon negotiating the final turn, he saw his house, an unattractive motley of reddish brown bricks, set against a valueless sky. Giselle’s car was parked, impeccably, and the setting sun had already descended onto the hood, a tawny mirror that struggled to outshine his fatigue.
The short stories have been moved to a password protected page.
Video stars Ariel as a boisterous shoe aficionado. Music written and performed by her kindly master.
Ariel has been on the island for three weeks (blissful weeks, from my point of view–but probably from hers too). She is adjusting nicely, but she has her moments… such as chewing the electrical wires under my desk, digging up the soil around any and all houseplants, chewing shoes, shredding knitted goods, etc.
And I’m loving it!
The topic of a suitable recreational activity came up, and I suggested scrapbooking, becoming a bibliophile, taking up the ancient Phoenician art of glassblowing, and, in a moment of tingly madness, spelunking. But my main advice to owners of overenthusiastic dogs is simple: never speak the words ‘bungee jumping’ as dogs tend to feel, at some quantum level, the magnificent possibilities of this anserine activity, thus making short shrift of your feckless attempts at facetiousness. I’m also noticing that excitable dogs are particularly insensitive to any form of hyperbole–if a thing can be fathomed (even remotely), it can excite.
Ariel, indulging in bibliophilia, her newest pastime, is seen with Ariadne’s ball of thread. The minotaur (thankfully absent, but played to a tee by my neighbor’s burly dog) must be slain (so much violence in these tales!), and the thread that took Theseus to the center of the labyrinth must presently lead him out. These mythological stories, however eccentric, are preferable, even when taking into account their numerous faults, to jumping off mountain tops while tethered to some sketchy umbilic support.