Days of Dog Star
The sky of goddess Nut
Gosh, thickest Summer. It’s nice right now: We’re swimming backstroke in a big pool of quiet. And music. The Chornobyl exclusion zone wildfires have died down and dacha life will be extended until at least October. The roads are slow with Land Rover sedans pulling caravans full of kids to and from summer camps. My Kyiv neighborhood is overrun now and again, this weekend by people wearing athleisure to avoid heat stroke.
Sweet chestnuts are ripening, because the sun is relentless. The dogs, they pant.
Progress is impossible without change, and those who cannot change their minds cannot change anything.
Basically what Eliot complains about at The Atlantic.
