The setting sun, Kenro Izu and the passage to Angkor, an overall look towards the west, I guess.

The sun is sneaking in the rays between the shades and under the monitor and so my thumb and the middle finger of my left hand are glowing as if I were excitingly calling home. And yet I am not. I spent an oddly long time looking at the finest details of the Kenro Izu print that arrived in the mail yesterday. It is a platinum print of the entrance shown on the cover of his latest book, "Passage to Angkor" The photograph looks so much like a finest pencil drawing. The detail however is so fine, that even the most skilled draftsman could not come close to diving this deep into the mystery of the temple. And quite honestly, I do not even know how Kenro Izu managed to create such a perfect photograph. The detail is perfect in the light and as well in the shade. Superhuman photography. The sun is on the move. It is now the palm of my hand and the ring finger that are glowing. How could this weekend just slip away between the hands of the clock? The hands tried to catch every second. There was a deer mother in Fort Lee today, watching humans quietly and with a silent patience. Her two calfs, and I am not sure this is the name for those small deer kids with white dots on their coats, did not dare to cross the path with her. Standing right between the animals was not the best spot for any human... All was peaceful. Only chipmunks were fighting for their territory with a vicious passion. A groundhog looked stuffed on the simulated fortifications of the fort. They are his home. The dreams locked in my recently very short nights have been packed with symbols that would make Dr. Freud reward himself with some especially potent medication. I feel as if the giant waves of expectations broke through all barriers on the shores of my imagination. Now would be the time to burst with creative energy. And yet I am imploding. It is just good to know that such feelings, as all, are very temporary. And the sun set.