Falcon spoor!

When I'm sad, I wander under the clocktower. This looked like a bit of cedar mulch from afar, but was, upon further inspection, the foot of some sad and fair creature. Note the long toes, the arc of the claws, the tassel of tendons, and the puff about the knee. Lovely.

It's been too warm here. Eerily warm. The late November mists feel like the world's end on my cheeks, and I look desperately to the tower for a ruffling shape, sign that life can recover, can reclaim these ridiculous towers we build of conceit.