Friday

Judically Speaking



One-hundred miles south of this most Blue of Ridges cherry trees show off small buds of pink.  The courthouse I visit this week is as cold as the mausoleum I visited last week.  And like that mausoleum everyone who can leave, leaves.  Those who stay talk for money, a dollar a spoken word?  Let's make that two.

Outside the city bites, barks and growls. Mostly playful but I never know anymore.  I saw a video of brightly dressed masked women in Russia being struck with a whip under a brillant blue sky.  I wished it to be as unreal as it looked.  Women in bright dresses singing dancing in the courthouses, in the mausoleums, in the cathedrals.  In the madhouses in the jailhouses in the prisons.  Women.  The madness of that whip.