Reality check

You are reading The Year of Magical Painting from the bottom up, yes?

(Good. Because to read it from the top down is a betrayal of the first order of everything I'm trying to achieve here. It galls me to even have to ask. I mean, did Ed. Spenser have to stop in the middle of Paradise Lost and ask if people were reading it in the manner in which it was designed to be read? Of course not. If for no other reason than he didn't write it. But the point still holds.)

Assuming that you are, then the last words you read prior to encountering this post were:

We are feeling sanguine. As we often do.

Now, feeling sanguine (whatever that even means) is all well and good. My problem is that sometimes I start getting too pleased with myself and my head swells up. As a prophylactic measure I am attaching this:



A reminder that you can't make good music without playing the black keys as well as the white ones.