A Better Way to Send Photos

14 years.  June 5th arrives 'round again on the spin.  This time freedom day is not met with a glorious sail in the sunshine, but instead echoes of the past reemerging in the present.  Yang signalling his arrival out of nowhere as you waited at the airport for Ms. S., and as Hepburn emerges just before to stoke memories of the lost wallet returned in the ziploc bag.  Circles upon circles, converging in patterns beyond anticipation or expectation.  Obstinate things ever unchanging.  As pictures of other polka dots are sent from the location of the 30th, drawing your attention toward the Sinfonia and the ancient city of Venice.

Gartner in Dublin for the day this year, your early morning email finding him in an Uber post a night of poetry readings, cocktails, and pool shenanigans.  Remember?  The end of a long day that started with the re-routed flights to Kazan and the World Cup, via Guinness brewery.  Imagine that.  His email laughing about the process of sending pictures back in the day.  Old indeed.

A few days into hosting the visitor, and some fun lined up for the days ahead.  First, to see through this day, and to see off Alice, just shy of her 96th year.  I did so think she would outlast QEII, or see the day of the 100th and the recognition from Buckingham that it brings.  Sadness, and yet light, as she comes to a graceful end and leaves wondrous memories in her wake.  The last visit, on the eve of the Europa extravagance, was one for all time.  And so pleased that the last of the postcards found its mark.

Busy days.  Yang's arrival proving again the maxim that people do not change.  The language simply marvelous, and the Garrett Mason performance to his usual standards.  "I am so free," it sounded like as he closed his first set.  A song for freedom day if ever there was one.  Enjoy these ones, McMahon.  Youth's a stuff.