Shutting down the bench lights before turning in. The basement holds a steady chill at this hour, which suits the terrarium rack rather better than it suits my knuckles. Predictably, the shadowboard is missing the small brass callipers again—a crisp chalk silhouette reminding me of my own sermons on order. I have no doubt they are sitting under a tray of escutcheons three feet away. They can wait for the morning. Some things are better resolved by daylight than late-night rummaging.
Diário · 8 de out. de 2026