peared down

Walking up Graham Street this evening, these are unmistakably a sign of the year's decline, hanging heavy on their tree - as is the just starting to look golden evening light. It's also the end of another long week - the kind that raises the blogger's paradox: what does one write about if one can't write about all the issues (almost all of them related to the business of the chair's office) that fill most of one's mind, most of the time? And when I go for a walk in the evening, what I want to do is to empty my mind out: these pears, therefore, will have to stand for some kind of brave attempt to make a stand against blankness.