The picture on the left is of a sculpture I saw at the Met. It shews Death, as a young woman, halting the work of a young artist's chisel in mid stroke. The sculpture is itself the elaborate headstone of a young sculptor of headstones, taken by the gentle touch of our ageless sister in the prime of his life, and it is he who is depicted as the artist.

Went for a nice long run today with the dog. It's convenient to run with her; all I have to do is follow behind. She knows the way.