Considering that none of the sheep were supposed to be pregnant, it was with great delight that we looked out the window to see this. Although miraculous to see new life, sometimes the countryside can make me feel like I am suffocating. We went to an art opening last night hoping to see some youth and vibrancy...instead it was all very dogmatic and lacked any form of poetry or poignancy. Am I cynical or just too naive?
I came home (thanks to Google Chrome) to muse over pictures of Boris Lovet-Lorski's Venus, and visit the Hirshhorn to see the sculpture Garden, and track down the goat sign we saw at the inn in Bedgellert. Then sat down to re-read the Little Prince. Thinking about bronzes and plaster casting and texture and money and mortality...
