Crystal rub

A word is not a crystal, transparent and unchanged; it is the skin of a living thought and may vary greatly in color and content according to the circumstances and time in which it is used.

Oliver Wendell Holmes, Jr.


A quiet Sunday morning with happy, but still separated cats. Max is the picture of regained vigor, and she is the picture of obsession, gazing at him in the loft with a crystal eye.

Here's an out take that she would hate, after she rubbed against the chair as well.

For the Record,
This day came in cloudy, but dry after two stormy days.