#but even if i learned plover (something i have all the equipment to do but i havent sat down n done yet)

[dullahandyke]

nothing like a typing test to lift the spirits

[waypathfinder]

Crimson Lane - Chapter 6 - Fire

Moodboard by @ashtyntaytertot  Beta’d by @kathknight and @ashtyntaytertot

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The air stunk of wood smoke, earth and soot, as a smoky haze settled low to the ground of Yavin Close. Kylo Ren waited with arms folded and a scowl on his face. Dressed head to toe in black, swallowed by the ink of night. A monster in the shadows.

He’d been waiting for an hour now, kicking at a gnarled tree root, twisted and exposed in the dirt like a broken bone. The chill of the night air infiltrated his fingers and toes, forming a damp coldness that burrowed all the way into his bones.

It was quiet here, and too perfect. The tree-lined street was in an upper-middle class area, north of the city. Classic suburbia. The kind of place featured in those tidiest town competitions. A picturesque cul-de-sac with clean-cut lawns of dew-filled buffalo grass, family-sized cars and front yards scattered with children’s toys.

It was the last place in the world Kylo wanted to do this kind of work. He was comfortable hurting junkies and criminals, but a place like this—-it felt off. People like this were so sheltered from the underbelly of life. In a way, he admired them for it. The innocence, the ignorance, it was a blessing living under such a delusion.

He hadn’t minded the cold at first. The cutting bite of the air was refreshing, especially after his run-in with Rey. He had needed more than a cool breeze after  that, an arctic swim would have been preferable. Even then… his hands clenched together and released as he thought of her, kneeling before him, mouth open, soft lips touching his—-  

Shit. His body tugged with furious hunger, lusty and sex-crazed like a teenager. He repositioned himself, taking a deep and purposeful breath. A quick meditation to drag his thoughts out of the gutter. He let the emptiness of night fill his mind, chasing the silence, holding on to it.

Forget her, he willed himself, forget the way her eyes met his with such fierceness, that fiery spirit, hard and resolute, and yet there was softness there, and empathy—She was so much more than he could have hoped.

Years ago she had been nothing but a terrified child, a victim of the world and her circumstances. But now she was formidable. Life had chiselled her into something tenacious and strong, and— beautiful.

And he had not expected that.

He had not expected to think about her  all  the fucking time, or to spend an insane amount of money just to keep her safe from the others.

That first night—he shuddered to remember it. How he had let his hungry eyes feast on her like she was his to take. He had treated her like all the other prostitutes. She was  supposed  to be an outlet. A place he could thrust those feelings of self-loathing away. That’s the way it worked, it was almost mechanical now. After he’d cracked someone’s skull, or broken an arm, or left them humiliated and crying as they begged for mercy, he could come back to the brothel and just  forget. Somehow pounding into those girls, feeling the blood hardening in his cock, focused his mind on the physical and quietened the part that hated what he had become.

Sex was a transaction. An affirmation to Snoke that he was the heartless, monster he’d made him into. But after being with Rey—he had wanted  more. Needed  more. That night he had been drawn into her. She would be the death of him, he was sure of it, but what a sweet death it would be.

His phone vibrated on silent in his pocket, and he retreated back beneath the boughs of one of the many century-old camphor laurel trees that lined the street. Melting into the consuming shadows, he pulled the phone close to his face to hide the light.

“What is it?”

A gravelly voice cracked on the other side of the phone. “Are you in position?”

“Yes. There’s no sign of him yet.”

“There’s been a change of plans. I want you to take him out.”

Kylo’s heart froze in his chest. Snoke had never said anything about killing anybody. “I thought this was a warning.”

“It is— to everyone else .”

“It’s too risky,” he hissed, hating the desperation in his voice. Snoke would sense it, he would know. “People will start asking questions.”

“Dameron has already threatened to go public with an article tomorrow that raises questions about the Resistance bombing last year. He’s been stalking the girls as they go to work, asking questions. These people are leeches, Kylo, they will destroy everything I’ve worked for.”

“Is it not enough that we’re taking out his source tomorrow? He’ll have nothing on you after that.”

Silence. Kylo swallowed. Above his head, there was a flutter of wings, as a plover bird shot out of the sky, screeching as it dashed away.

“My, how comfortable you are questioning my authority these days.”

Kylo’s jaw tensed, and adrenaline coursed through his body at the warning in Snoke’s words. He retreated, voice quiet with defeat.

“I’m tired. I’ve worked every night this week. I thought I had tonight off.”

“Oh, you’re  tired ,” Snoke sneered. “Then perhaps you need to arrange your week better if your priorities are getting skewed. Tell you what, I’ll take care of your whore for the rest of the week, and you can focus on your fucking job.”

“I spoke out of turn. It’s nothing,” Kylo said, his voice strained and quiet.

“That’s right. It’s nothing,” Snoke purred, letting an unsettling silence cut between them.

“Have you looked her up yet?”

“No.”

“When will you do it?”

“Tonight. I still have the card you gave me. I haven’t had time today—”

“Make sure that you do, before you fall for any more of her nonsense. Who thought my own apprentice could be so gullible for such lewd and shallow charms? It’s a fucking farce, Kylo. The sooner you finish greasing your dick in her, the better off we will all be.”

Spittle formed at the edges of Kylo’s mouth and his head pounded. His vision clouded, as though his whole world was ready to burn around him. If Snoke had been here, he might have ripped the skin off his body. This fresh rage was just beginning to surge and peak within him when there was a sound of tyres crushing fallen leaves. Not the kind of car he was expecting for Poe Dameron, the Raddus was notoriously slow and more like a mini-van than a car. He would have thought a Tie or X-wing would have been more of Poe's style.

“He’s here.” He backed away, hanging up the phone instantly as he pulled a hood up over his head.

A silver Raddus pulled into the driveway, and Kylo stopped breathing. He was well and truly concealed, but even so, Poe could recognise him. They had been childhood friends for a time, racing their billy carts down the steepest streets in Chandrila. They both had a love of speed and danger, with their play dates ending in bloody knees and bruised elbows.

There was the sound of car doors opening and closing, followed by muffled voices. He peered out between the darkness of the branches; Poe was chatting to a woman, his wife, he supposed. They held hands as they spoke, soft voices and gentle smiles. Kylo grimaced. The woman had two blond buns on either side of her head, making her look more like a giant bear from this far away. Eventually, she walked into the house, leaving him alone outside.

Poe looked out into the street, breathing in the fresh night air as he made his way towards the back door of the van.

The door opened quietly, followed by gentle shushing sounds. When Poe turned around, he was carrying a little girl, with dark curly blond hair, slumped in his arms in deep sleep. He gently pushed the hair out of her eyes and placed a kiss on her forehead, before carrying her inside

Kylo felt like someone had smashed a cleaver against his chest. It was one thing to take Poe out. As a journalist, he knew what he was risking by chasing this story. But it was another thing to take a father away from his family. The feeling was too raw. Fathers should be with their children. That was something he had learned the hard way. And then there was a chance he might be responsible for killing a child. He’d gotten used to having a certain amount of blood on his hands; there was a line, but he crossed that years ago.

“Well, well, well, it seems we got here just in time.”

Kylo jumped at the snide voice that came up behind him.  Armitage Hux. He gritted his teeth, mouthing a silent curse. Things were about to get a lot more complicated.

“Hux,” he growled without turning to face him. “I was wondering when you’d show up.”

“You were supposed to wait for me, or did you just happen to forget that critical piece of information?”

Kylo turned around slowly; not one, but four knights behind Hux. He tried to hide his surprise at the extra company, folding his arms indifferently and rolling his eyes.

“Good, Snoke has given you some babysitters,” Kylo said with a yawn as he looked away from them, hoping it would ease the tightening sensation in his chest. The added company was a sign of distrust, Snoke wanted to make sure he knew if he didn’t finish the job, there were plenty of others who would.

“Hang tight, Kylo,” Hux sneered with a plastic smile, eyes narrowing. He dug into his pocket, pulling out a phone that he then held outstretched in front of him.

“Is that really necessary?”

“You know he likes to watch you work. Now smile for the camera, Kylo.”

“Yeah, I know he likes to fucking watch,” he muttered.

“Here.” Hux gently handed him a package. “Attach this beneath the driver’s seat, it’s equipped with a GPS signal so we’ll know when Dameron is on the move. The trigger is connected to this burner phone’s sim card.”

Kylo took the cellphone, casually slipping it into his pocket.

“You’ll have to sync the bomb and the phone when it’s fixed so you can get a notification when the car moves. Once we know he’s driving you can set the trigger remotely, and problem solved.” Hux wiped his hands together. “Do you think you can manage that?”

“Yeah, I can manage.” Kylo gently took the brown paper bag from Hux. Inside was a black mass of twisted wires and the whole thing stunk of tar. C-4. Hux wasn’t kidding around. Then he looked at the phone, swiping the screen until he found an app called “Push me Kylo.”

“Cute,” Kylo said darkly. The fucking rodent, he’d love to wipe that smug smile off his face right now but the video phone was firmly on his every move now, and the knights watched him closely, hands and feet twitching as though they were waiting for him to lash out.

He turned to go, and Hux’s voice trailed after him mirthfully.

“Hey, thought I might book your girl on Saturday. I hear she’s as tight as a—”

Kylo spun around and grabbed Hux by the neck, dragging the tall but lean man close to him. Hux squealed, as the other knights lunged to separate them.

“I will fucking shove this package down your weasel throat if you don’t shut up.”

Hux smiled again, ensuring the camera was still firmly capturing the entire thing. It was too late to care, he had the whole thing on live stream. He’d have to deal with the consequences of that little move later.

“Tsk, tsk, Kylo. You know our generous leader hates it when we fight.” Hux cooed at him. “Off you go, our Supreme Leader is waiting.”

Kylo walked away from him, his skin still prickling with rage and breathing hard. He had to learn to ignore, to tether his rage. It was always his weakness, all they needed to do was make him angry and he was as good as a ticking time bomb. Snoke knew this, and he exploited it.

As he approached the silver Raddus, Kylo’s movements became more furtive and smooth, employing all he had learned in years of ninjutsu training under Master Luke. He moved like an alley cat, skulking and silent until he was pressed up against the door of the Raddus. Hux and the knights were all watching him, but at least they had to hang back in the shadows and there was no moon just now.

With unsteady fingers, he fixed the bomb beneath the driver’s seat. It was easy to do; Hux had fixed it with a magnetic rod that pulled it into place with a clang. The noise echoed out into the still of night and Kylo ducked down, each breath coming fast and hard in his chest.

Then he got out the burner phone and his own. Slyly glancing back to Hux, he quickly swapped the sim cards and synced the trigger to his own phone. By the time sweat began to drip down his forehead, he turned back to Hux. Walking back slowly, holding out the burner phone clearly so Hux could see, his other hand in his pocket.

He tried to keep his steps slow and casual. In his pocket, his sweaty palm clutched at his own phone. It was a crude plan, but he’d had to go with it on the fly. Snoke usually withheld instructions to the last minute to avoid planning on Kylo or anyone else's part, but what he failed to anticipate was that Kylo worked best when improvising on the spot. It fed him with adrenaline and pushed away any hesitation he might have experienced, had he planned everything out a week in advance.

Hux moved towards him, hand outstretched to take the phone. Kylo had to act fast, but he was much closer than he would have liked. He braced his body for pain and heat, as his thumb slipped over the trigger in his pocket and instantly the world behind him exploded into fire. The force of the explosion torpedoed him face first to the ground, scraping his skin across the ground. He still felt the heat, a resident flash burn that stung his entire body and his nostrils were filled with the scent of burning rubber and petrol.

Hux, who had also been catapulted to the ground, charged at him, the knights close behind but Kylo ignored the pain in his body and jumped to his feet.

“What the fuck?” he screamed at Hux.

The red-headed man stalled his charge, his narrow eyes becoming wide with sudden panic. “You must have set it off!”

“You saw me, I had it facing you as I came back. And why the hell would I fucking set it off?” he shouted and added a sharp shove at Hux. “Your faulty device could have killed me.”

“I-I don’t understand,” Hux stammered, peering around at the other knights, who were all eyeing him suspiciously. “I tested it only this afternoon.”

“I hope you got that on camera, you red-headed Gronk.”

Hux narrowed his eyes at him, a visible vein beginning to pop out at his temple. “You—-”

Suddenly they heard shouting from down the street. Kylo turned back to see Poe running out to the flaming car, his hands wringing through his hair. “We need to leave, now.”

——

He cracked the door ajar, spearing shards of light into the hollow darkness. The room was empty and the bed untouched.

She was gone.  A twinge of panic rushed through Kylo in a rude jolt. He wouldn’t blame her for doing so—she  should have gone.

But still, the reality of this truth was no less painful. He had hoped… He didn’t know what he hoped, but he had hoped none the less. It was pathetic really, yearning for something so simple. Someone to share thoughts and ideas, to spar with, to touch him. How long had it been since he’d had a friend, since he had anybody?

He urged one foot in front of the other, wringing his hands as he went. They were still numb and cold after waiting so long in the bitter night. At least the fire was still aglow, with a crusted black log, charred and singed with flames, but inside the heart still burned. He moved to sit by it, rekindling the warmth within the tips of his fingers—

And there she was, ethereal and sleeping soundly on the floor, her hand still clutching a book of short stories. A sheer white robe fanned across her body like a sheet, sinking between the hollow of her thighs and the sculpted lines of her body. A warmth swept through him that had nothing to do with the fire. He squatted down beside her, hands across his knees, studying her features.

He dared not make a sound lest she stirred. Here he could watch her without her snide remarks and scowling eyes. He could watch in silence, focus on the way a curling strand of hair now fell across her high cheekbones, her sun kisses, speckled endearingly across her nose and cheeks, the way her lips were soft and parted and the neck was long and exposed beneath her ear. He wondered what it would be like to kiss her there, and the sounds she might make as he pressed her lips in slow, lascivious, wanting kisses.

The heat within his body bloomed. God damn, this woman was going to make him go mad. He pushed the thoughts down when she stirred, her hand sliding across the rug as she changed position, and Kylo cocked his head to the side, watching the way her long limbs moved.

Her face scrunched in what appeared to be pain and her movements became fast and jolting. Her eyes moved like waves beneath their lids, searching and desperate.

“Rey,” he whispered, touching his hand to her shoulder.

She swatted it away and he smirked. She was fiery even in sleep.

Well, in that case…

He slid his arms beneath her back, pulling her close to him. The warmth of her body pressed into his chest and her eyes sleepily fluttered open. Her body went rigid in his arms. A part of him shattered a little at the way she reacted,

“Shhh. It’s okay,” he said to her in hushed tones.

She closed her eyes again, her arms slipping around his neck as her body relaxed into his hold.

“I was having a bad dream,” she said lazily. “He was dragging me into the kitchen. He was going to hurt me.”

The meekness of her words struck at him, and he felt an overwhelming need to cocoon her against his body, protecting her from the world outside that was too violent and hateful for something so beautiful.

“Who was going to hurt you?” he asked, walking her to the bed, even though her eyes were closed and he wasn’t quite sure she was even awake.

“The man in black. He’s the one I dream about. The centre of my nightmares. He never stops hunting me.”

Kylo felt something break inside him, a bleak darkness spearing through his heart. He looked down at her placid face, peaceful now that she was in his arms. He reached the bed and placed her in it gently, pulling the blankets up over her body.

“He won’t hurt you again.” His words were as gentle as his hands as he caressed a thumb over the line of freckles across her cheeks. But inside him, the promise was hard, and heavy in his chest.

He stepped back, watching her fall deeper into sleep, her lips parting as sweet breaths slowed into slumber.

She walks in beauty, like the night of cloudless climes and starry skies

And all that’s best of dark and bright

Meet in her aspect and her eyes;

He shook his head. Now he was spouting high-school poetry? Perhaps Snoke was right about him. He was becoming less of a man. Pathetic.

He grabbed his laptop from his bag and set it up at the small writing desk along the edge of the wall. He opened it and the screen lit up, casting an iridescent blue light through the room. He darted his head to look at Rey; the light had not woken her. Relieved, he turned back and opened up his Google search engine.

The business card Snoke had given him earlier in the day had been burning a hole in his pocket. He thought of it constantly and the secrets it would reveal. It was the reason he had avoided following it up until now.

Snoke was right about one thing, he needed to know the truth about her. What had happened before … he was on a slide, he could feel himself falling hard. Of all the weeks she would come bounding into his life, it had to be this one, the week his whole world was to burn and he had to make a decision.

He pulled out the card, white on black: First Time Forever, with a website below the text.

He took a ragged breath and typed in the words.

The screen flashed to life with an elegant cursive script. Below the logo were pictures of young girls in awkward poses, sticking their arses out, pouting their lips, in lacy bras and suspenders. His throat constricted as he began to scroll down the page looking for her. He gave up scrolling and typed in the search bar instead:  Kira.

Her page sprang up and Kylo leaned back in his chair, feeling like someone had poured cement down his mouth. Her picture was different from the rest, she was smiling widely with two sharply defined dimples. Her hair tied in three buns, the same style she had worn when he had found her all those years ago. She wasn’t posing like the other girls, in fact, there was nothing sexy about the photo. Her bio said she was 18, but the photo looked much younger than that.

He read her bio, scrolling past the various bust, waist and arse measurements until he read this section:

In Kira’s words:  I like huge cok. I want a man to break me in and leave me screaming for more. Come and be my first time and I promise to come all down yur legs.

He cringed, at both the sentiment and even more at the terrible grammar and typos. It was almost comical in a way, the contrast between the innocent picture above and the dirty words beneath it. And then he saw something that made his heart grind to a halt.

SOLD for $350,000.

It wasn’t her first time doing sex work, and she certainly wasn’t broke.

This is what Snoke had wanted him to see.

Things were not what they seemed. And he had a terrible feeling he knew what this all meant, but he had to know for sure.

With trembling fingers, he pulled his phone out and searched for a contact he had sworn never to call. With a shaking breath, he dialled the number and waited.

It rang for too long.

“Come on, pick up the phone—”

There was a click on the other line and that familiar husky voice, a curious accent blend of Mexican and Kenyan.

“I told you not to call.”

His heart sunk a little at the coldness in her words. How far removed they were from the way she’d doted on him as a child.

Kylo cleared his throat.

“It’s about Kira.”

There was a sharp intake of breath, followed by a long silence.

“You promised you would keep away from her.”

“I know, and I did,” he said, stung by the accusation in her tone. “But things have changed.”

“Mwanaharamu!” she began throwing curses at him. “Kumamako—”

“I didn’t go searching for her, Maz!” he spat back at her a little too loudly.

He quickly turned Rey; she was still sleeping but he was careful to lower his voice.

“She took a job with Snoke.”

“God, no,” Maz replied, her voice hoarse with horror. “Is she safe?”

“For now.”

“You need to get her away from that monster. Damn it, Ben Solo! If you do one good thing in your life you get her away from him. You may choose to follow Snoke on his path to hell but I’ll be damned—”

He tuned out; her voice was becoming harder to understand as her native tongue began to fuse with her English. He’d always thought it quite endearing as a child, but now he just needed her to give him answers.

“Maz, if you want me to help her, I need you to shut up and listen!”

She became quiet, and the only sound from the other end of the line was ragged panting.

He looked back at Rey, still sleeping soundly, a soft snore slipping from her lips every now and then, which made her nose crinkle and Kylo’s chest filled with warmth at the cute little gesture.

“I need you to tell me everything, Maz.”

[emmetohboy]

Favorites: The 2020 Conundrum

Illustration credit: Orkenoy

I’ve heard it from numerous colleagues, friends and family members. The sentiment along the lines of "...can't end soon enough." or " Worst year ever." I don't disagree. Along with virtually everyone I know, this year has meant personal loss, crippling angst and the missing of loved ones. But do I wish 2020 had not happened? Along with the uncertainty and hardship, would I wish away everything else that the years has brought? I don't know.

I'm not one to pontificate what the pandemic has taught us or accelerated or revealed. But I am interested in drawing it as a frame around the creative work that was generated in the context of it. At the close of 2016 I hoped that the lemon of the new political environment might bare the lemonade of generational creative output. That may or may not have been the case. We’ll have to wait longer to assess that from a more objective distance. But the last 10 months have been a concentrated, intensely focused, if not simply harrowing time. Has the pressure been so intense, in such a short period, that we graduated from lemonade to forging cultural carbon into diamonds at an unprecedented speed? Are these gems be so luminous, that they will one day be viewed as heirlooms? Was the pain of 2020 worth its blessings?

Listen

Released right at the onset of quarantine was my absolute favorite record of 2020. Waxahatchie's St.Cloud is a stunner first track to last. Some hook you instantly ("Can't Do Much"), and others slowly worm their way into your soul ("Witches"). Several year-end best lists included the latest from Lucinda Williams, Katie Crutchfield's musical hero. I disagree with its inclusion, finding the tracks a little flimsy and familiar.  Katie's St. Cloud, however, is as close to prime Lucinda as anyone has gotten in quite some time.

Termed "Hip-Hop's first pandemic masterpiece by Exclaim magazine, Oddisee's Odd Cure brought a lot of joy this year. A tidy mix of R&B tinged hip-hop intertwined with calls to friends and family, the record has broad appeal and a narrative that only 2020 could supply.

The Remote Tiny Desk concert Oddisee performed with his band, mostly present, is fantastic.

Every year I can count on being introduced to one or two new artist via the New Music Mix that Apple Music serves me every Friday. This year I was pulled in to the track "Safe in Sound" by Orlando Weeks. I dropped it into a growing playlist that I have for background music while working. Each time it came up on shuffle it begged to be replayed. Eventually I tapped the entire record and googled Mr. Weeks. He is not a new artist to me at all. The former frontman for the U.K. band the Maccabees had ventured into a solo career. And it is so strikingly different from the Maccabees record I love, 2007's Colour it In, that it is no surprise I didn't recognize him. Weeks’ A Quickening is transformative and almost spiritual at times. He contemplates fatherhood ("Milk Breath") and community ("St. Thomas") and an aging seafarer’s relation to the elements that surround him ("Moon Opera"), in such ways that the record works in prioritizing what is important during difficult, if not odd times. 

I came late to Natalie LaFourcade and I’m a little angry at ignorantly depriving myself of this joyful talent for so long. She is a prolific dynamo. 2020 brought Un Canto por Mexico Vol.1. And so as the tile suggest, there will be another volume on its heels. Natalia had similarly released the wonderful Musas as two volumes spread over 2017-18. These three records along with 2015's Hasta la Raiz have supplanted the Trio Los Panchos records I played for cooking  accompaniment.

One of the most creative and infectious records I heard all year was Buscabulla's Regresa. The husband and wife outfit returned from New York to their native Puerto Rico following the tragedy of hurricane Maria. The environment made for joyful and melancholic results musically.

Buscabulla’s remote performance for NPRs Tiny Desk, from the back of their car at the beach in Aguadilla, Puerto Rico makes me smile the entire 13 minutes. Here’s to the resourcefulness of creativity.

I've been a fan of White Denim for some time. They are also quite prolific, generating new records almost yearly since 2009. So who could have blamed them after releasing Side Effects in 2019 if they had taken 2020 lying down. Not James Petralli and Michael Hunter. When faced with Austin Texas' pending stay at home order, the band wrote and recorded the entire record in thirty days. World as a Waiting Room is among the band's best. 

2017 Juno award winner William Prince is a huge star in Canada and should be stateside as well. His voice is as unique and warm as any I can recall. And his songwriting is as earnest, if not as clever as fellow Canadian Ron Sexsmith. "Wasted" is an unintentional anthem for 2020.

I am hooked Frazey Ford's vocal delivery. There is a Van Morrison quality to it, so nonchalant to almost be conversational. It as if the lyrics might be different every time she sings the song. U kin B the Sun is laden with grooves and a casual coolness that  always set me down lakeside on a summer day.

Circles feels like it was released a lifetime ago. The loss of Mac Miller was devastating and his partnership with Jon Brion is was one the most visionary collaborations of all time. This record feels timeless.

Lianne LaHavas is one of the most talented musicians alive. This year’s self-titled release is as close to a Sade record as we've had in a while.

Its great to see local acts get such national acclaim. Even better when they demonstrate creative growth. DEHD's Flower of Devotion expands the bands previously bare bones approach to music making with lovely Cocteau Twins-esque shimmer.

Orkenoy in the daytime.

Speaking of things local, I have been rooting for Orkenoy since finding out the Humboldt Park brewery was in the works back in 2019. What a journey it has been for the folks behind it all. Brewing equipment, transported from a distance, tumbles off of the truck as it nears its new home. It was damaged but not irreparable. It was nothing compared to what was to come. We may have hit the tipping point on craft breweries, but can you imagine readying your passion project for the world and the world snaps back with a global pandemic. They admirably soldiered on.

Turns out they are not just another brewery. They bill themselves as a "creative enclave operating as a brewery, kitchen and synergetic haunt for local artists." Their offerings, from brews to food, are a delicious blend of the rare and traditional, Norwegian Smørrebrøds and French Farmhouse, to new and experimental. Their branding is charming and narrative. We've taken carry out of cocktails and beers. Both were fantastic. Very recently Orkenoy has added even more allure to their footprint in the Kimball Arts Center by stringing lights from their facade to the elevated Bloomingdale Trail. As the nights have grown to their longest, my morning runs begin in darkness. So when I came upon the illuminated Orkenoy early one morning last week my path became a bit merrier. I was also struck by how much the scene reminded me of Van Gogh's Cafe Terrace at Night. 

Orkenoy at pre-dawn run.

Lulu Miller has worked as a producer for Radiolab and is a co-creator of the NPR show Invisibilia. Her book Why Fish Don't Exist was my favorite read of 2020. Told in Miller's quirky voice, the pages navigate herculean scientific achievements, our country's racial history, murder and ultimately love. While this may all  sound a frantic lot, Miller weaves it together tersely and with self-deprecating humor.

One of my favorite books of years' past is Michael Pollen's lesser known, Second Nature. It was in my initial reading of this that I learned from Pollen about Aldo Leopold's Sand County Almanac. I purchased a copy and thumbed through it when I finished Second Nature. A recent interest had me recall the work, so I set about our house to find it. It's a short book and so it took me a couple of looks to locate it behind thicker, stacked volumes on our bedroom bookshelf. I've been immersed in it ever since. I'm intentionally taking small bites, savoring every page, even highlighted passages—something I haven't done probably since reading Pollen. Leopold was an American philosopher and naturalist long associated with the University of Wisconsin. His writing is keenly observational, almost poetic. As he winds through the seasons on his Wisconsin farm, he introduces us to the behaviors of migrating geese, defensive plover and elusive trout among other inhabitants. Leopold is almost always alone with these creatures and his thoughts, save occasionally his dog. And while I wish I had a printing that contained the forward by Barbara Kingsolver, Leopold's original forward from 1948 suits me just fine. 

Aldo Leopold

"...the opportunity to see geese is more important than television., and the chance to find a pasque-flower is a right as inalienable as free speech...But wherever the truth may lie, this much is crystal-clear: our bigger-and-better society is now like a hypochondriac, so obsessed with its own economic health as to have lost the capacity to stay healthy. The whole world is so greedy for more bathtubs that it has lost the stability necessary to build them, or even turn off the tap. Nothing could be more salutary at this stage than a little healthy contempt for a plethora of material blessings."