momies en folie

i want my tombstone to say, she went into the dark, ________.
this is about the only thought i have for an hour this morning at four o'clock while i make madeleines in the empty shop. i also have a brief recollection of visiting the louvre to see the tiny statuette of pazuzu. my notebook reads, richelieu wing, room six. the hammered silver persian cuff i'm wearing reminds me of this. clanging upsetting against the bench.

now, in the afternoon, i'm reading to the smoky cat with amber eyes the story of the legend of sleepy hollow (love washington irving forever). periodically he stretches out a mitten to gently pat my leg and he's gazing at me with such devotion that i think he must hardly be paying any attention at all. for five days now he's lived here.

in other news, my etsy wishlist continues to grow unchecked.  this is not a bid for undeserved gifts, single reader.