Well I suppose one might use their newfound solitary existence well, if one were Thomas Aquinas. Or even if one were the kind of person who spent time reading him. Instead, I choose to lament my lonliness, and spend hours brooding over the fact that when I bought milk, I got low fat, instead of fat free. Which means every morning is ruined, as I have to repeat the ritual of tasting the milk, thinking it tastes too creamy, then realising it is not my usual fat free.

But that isn't the point. The point is how fast one devolves to eating straight out of the can, over the sink. It just took two days, in my case, to return to the worst possible mealtime habits of bachelorhood.

What makes it worse of course, is that what I am eating looks, and mostly tastes, like dog food. Note ketchup bottle in the background.

But, as usual, I am getting ahead of myself. For I should really begin on the gloomy day when I took my honey away. For some reason, which novelists call sympathetic resonance, it is always raining on such occaisions. Still, I try to see the stark beauty in the derricks by the waterfront at dawn, since I am an industrial fetishist art poseur.

You can't really tell from pictures, but sometimes raining mornings at sunrise are actually kind of nice, from a light perspective.

Also nice is my honey, who is always cheerful, even at a very early hour, about to embark on a whole new adventure. That video in her hand is Diva, which is a very nice movie. I only dimly recalled it from college, but it sort of still holds up. It's about a guy who falls in love with an opera singer. In French.

And this is what the car looks like without my honey in it. Although for full disclosure, I should point out that all the images are in reverse order chronologically. So the one below is actually the first, or oldest image, taken just as she left the building on the way to airport.