In the same way that they grow heavy winter coats, the cats seem to
assume attributes of wildness when the summer is thick and green and
feral - they're stalking around with saucer eyes and tails grown several
inches longer, claws unsheathed, and so am I ... days stuck into Mary
Daly's supremely witchy Wickedary plus evenings immersed in an
unlikely viewing assemblage of Agnetha Fältskog via Maya Deren and
Barbara Hammer are hardly a cure for such terminal concupiscence I suppose
...
Absolutely thrilled with all the lovely emails and inquiries I've gotten in the past week! So, so much more to come ... xx
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