De profundis...

The present is a foreign country – they do things differently there - where you are. I however am some months behind. There is no time like the past. It is a territory, a terroir, a forest which can be explored. And in that forest the rotten core of events, like fallen timbers, can be turned over to show the insects that prop them up. The light can be readjusted - a low light just so, to enhance the mood, or a high shower flickering through leafless fingers to reveal the truth, a truth, or a fiction.

The roots may clutch, but time fosters fondness like a good fungus.
Decay also breeds love.