By Charles Baudelaire
They are alike, prim scholar and perfervid lover:
When comes the season of decay, they both decide
Upon sweet, husky cats to be the household pride;
Cats choose, like them, to sit, and like them, shudder.
Like partisans of carnal dalliance and science,
They search for silence and the shadowings of dread;
Hell well might harness them as horses for the dead,
If it could bend their native proudness in compliance.
In reverie they emulate the noble mood
Of giant sphinxes stretched in depths of solitude
Who seem to slumber in a never-ending dream;
Within their fertile loins a sparkling magic lies;
Finer than any sand are dusts of gold that gleam,
Vague starpoints, in the mystic iris of their eyes.
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Friday morning was a work morning, as I had to finish a review of Voyager's "Revulsion", which is -- and I refrained from making this my entire review -- revolting, though not in my bottom ten for the series. It was once again not too hot, so I also took a long walk before lunch.
In the afternoon we took Adam's bike to the bicycle repair shop for a tune-up and also stopped in Fresh Market, Target, and a couple of other stores. I would have bought Captain America: Civil War, but Target was sold out of the version with both Blu-Ray and digital copy.
Then we dropped Maddy off at the mall for work and went to my parents' for dinner (Greek appetizers, Italian main course, all good). We came home to watch the final episode of Inspector Lewis, which I will miss a lot! The raptors and falconers at the Pennsylvania Renaissance Faire:
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