Bartelby Scrivener

I  am once again a child playing with crayons and pen tops.

There's a bit in a book somewhere with God as an old man living in a cottage, who each and every morning gets out a paper and pen, not writing, but playing, discovering new combinations and relationships between the two items. In childlike simplicity or senile dementia seems to be the question.

And I can't seem to stop f*cking with this photo.