Notes From Nowhere

It’s not that life up here is without hardships. For example, late in the evening the pool finally closes. But hey, this is Italy, so there’s always dessert. Below is just one of the roughly two dozen dishes available on this particular evening. Overheard at the buffet: “This is my death.”

Since I’m a compassionate person, I thought I’d post these two from our little summer resort in the mountains, as a virtual refreshment for those poor souls smoldering away back in Manhattan. 98 degrees is nothing up here, in the shade of the trees, with a pleasant breeze coming in from the nearby snow-covered mountains, and a light shower of rain in the afternoon…

This is an image I made at the Potsdamer Platz when it was still a wasteland, some 15 years ago. Today’s task: figure out whether I can make a poster for a conference on disagreement out of this.