From Diane Setterfield's The Thirteenth Tale

People disappear when they die. Their voices, their laughter, the warmth of their breath. Their flesh. Eventually their bones. All living mempry of them ceases. This is both dreadful and natural. Yet for some there is an exception to this annihilation. For in the books they write they continut to exist. We can rediscover them. Their humour, their tone of voice, their moods. Through the written word they can anger you or make you happy. They can comfort you. They can perplex you. They can alter you. All this, even though they are dead. Like flies in amber, like corpses frozen in ice, that which according to the laws of nature should pass away is, by the miracle of ink on paper, preserved. It is a kind of magic.

--Diane Setterfield



Saturday, April 18, 2009

Spring in Washington

I took a walk at Bellevue's Downtown Park today. I took many beautiful pictures that can be found here. Please look at them and comment.

I was going to post some of my favorites here and was just about to when Jessey started hissing and meowing. We went to see what was going on and we met this little friend, just out our back door.
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