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I'm very patient. I've sat here for almost forty minutes, trying to comment on people's blogs and writing up my own. Nine times out of ten, I get that bloody annoying error message, "Document contains no data." I feel like screaming! What a fucking lie! I sat here for ten minutes, typing, and you think there's no data? Are you mad?

The sun looked beautiful yet sorrowful as she set this evening. Phyllis took this photograph from our bedroom window. She seemed to be crying, and her face, downcast, sullen.

Just an illusion, I know, but I seemed to feel sadness in the ether. Is that possible? Can an emotion be so thick that it's tangible?

Strange, as she was sinking toward the horizon here in Scotland, she was high in the sky, shining brightly over someone elsewhere. In another place, she was yawning and stretching, goading a cockerel to wake the rest of the farm with a cock-a-doodle-doo!

But now, she's gone, for me anyway. The misty moon's taken her place.

I often stare at the moon, transfixed. I wonder if anyone I know is looking at her, too.