the sun shone burst in and out between snow showers, more like glitter bits floating, while I was lying on the ground, facing uphill, in Abbo's Alley, camera jammed into dirt, recording images I couldn't see, but at least the pink on the computer screen melded with the green and bit of blue and bright white of sun rays and made me forget that I had spent most of the day inside, reading other people's papers and offering comments, and counting things and noting them in a marble notebook, and wishing . . . wishing . . . wishing . . . I could walk outside where beautiful things always are.
(Sometimes, a little Photoshop does a person good.)