Rabbit memories

When I named this blog I was thinking about the story of the rabbit on the moon. There’s no deep (or shallow) analogy there; I just mainly write in the evenings, and like rabbits, and am kept awake by full moon.

There was a lovely moon out there earlier, but I can’t see it from my window. The moon has a certain magnetism. If I could, I’d probably be staring at it right now. Instead I’m thinking of my rabbit. He was very small and sort of dark chocolatey brown and, I thought, very clever for an animal with such a small brain. I had him for seven years. He’s been dead for eight years. Oddly enough, I still occasionally miss him.

In the next episode: my brother (who is still very much alive, but lives in a different country and can therefore be more easily missed than if I saw him more often. Hello dear if you’re reading this!) Or possibly a meme. It’s bloody hard work writing every day when you have cotton candy where your brain should be…

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Howl at the moon

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