In lieu of substantive content, I’m posting some old pictures from the early 1980’s. I must have been about three or four when these were taken, all of them in England. The above is a delightfully glummy beach, with Brits sporting about in overcoats and hoods. When I ponder my love for the sparkling azure waters and soft golden sands of Miami, I realize that I am but hearkening back to the beaches of yesteryear.

And this tree is just plain awesome. It should, if the world were a proper and mysterious place, have a door set into its broad trunk, that opened up into a musty stairwell that wound down and down and down about thick roots into the depths of the earth.

Below is a shot of the infamous winter that struck Britain in 1983; eight inches of snow over the course of one night, which resulted in this apparently delightful perambulation through the woods by our home, the long suffering adults putting up with our attacks and shrieks as we raced around, young Brazilian lads discovering a world of ice and slush.