Daniil Kharms kept popping up in my mind all day today. Both his name and several of his black-and-white photographs came to me with amazing persistence. As well as surprising force. In the end, I went to the World Wide Web to find a few of his absurdist stories. And I was rewarded in no time. Here is one about Pushkin, one of Kharms’ favorite subjects:

Pushkin liked to throw stones. If he saw stones, then he would start throwing them. Sometimes he would fly into such a temper that he would stand there, red in the face, waving his arms, and throwing stones. It really was rather awful!

Oh, what a lovely story. But why would Kharms start throwing stones at me out of the blue? Hard to tell, but it appears that I am ever more burdened by the absurdity of the world in which I find myself. This is something Kharms and I certainly share. So, all is well. Old friend, keep throwing stones at me. The more, the merrier. And many thanks in advance. Absurdist stories are among my favorite ones, anyhow.