February. Gone is our annual time with the two faced god and now we are spending the shortmonth time nibbling at the feast of purification (which is what February means).
I watched a documentary on the Haight today (for those two young to remember, the Haight was a sort of Valhalla for musicians in the 60s). Every few years it goes through a sort of minor renaissance but nothing near what the 60s were. Which is most likely a good thing.
You know there is a question coming up. There always is after all. So (nudging Professor arthur Newtown away from the keyboard, making him irate and straring from the other side of the room.) here is the question. Have you created a space in your writing, a city or kingdon or what have you that does not exist?