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Slowly shifting life. Friends come and go. Spiderwebs of lightning out the car window on a ride back from Tor's cabin, where we enjoyed a laid-back weekend of chatting, eating and drinking.
And then there's Schiller, Schiller, Schiller. In general, what I find to be his best poems are not his most famous. Imagine that. Furthermore, my favorite at the moment is about Bacchus, reads like a sinister incantation, and has a number of onomatopoeic neologisms. Imagine that too.
Note to self: choose a printer.