the poem has no particular relevance

I now have a directory full of holiday photos (well, a selection of the best ones) -- http://pics.livejournal.com/incandescens/gallery/00016c9s.

And now perhaps sleep would be a good idea. Why yes, I am jetlagged.

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The Sick Rose

O Rose, thou art sick!
The invisible worm
That flies in the night,
In the howling storm,

Has found out thy bed
Of crimson joy,
And his dark secret love
Does thy life destroy.

-- William Blake