(no subject)
Just got home from the film festival; was very, very good (reviewing later)
Meanwhile, as we drove home there was a huge quarter-moon, huge, low in the sky, and we passed a man with a plastic bag, walking steadily but so slowly, looking down, walking home. He seemed not to want to go home, but he wasn't enjoying the night sky or the cool air either, just one whole manful of unwanting... I would have liked to tap him on the shoulder, and point at the yellow moon.