It’s Sunday night. Already? Or again?
Temperatures have fallen, with precipitation (or rain, as they say), as have the shares of French banks and financial markets everywhere. Someone is gaining, someone losing. Which is which? Or are they really just the same?
The cat, meanwhile, has been in the hunt for mice these days in the garden, having almost caught one for good and then each night returning to the scene of that « near » success. She watches and waits, alert to the slightest movement of a stray leaf, a branch, a shadow.
If only I could pay that kind of attention to whatever is before me! And then, like her, just move on empty-handed.