frandroid

So I've started to read This is How You Lose the Time War, and as I have to put it down to attend more time-sensitive fiction digestion, I grab a bookmark from the pile. The bookmark, from years ago, is promoting a Festival of Hawks. I don't recall picking up this bookmark, I don't recall visiting this Essex Country Conservation Authority (though I've been in its catchment), but somehow this bookmark came, like a message crafted by Blue, for me to find at the opportune moment.

I'm making plans for Sept. 16 and 17.

---

I'm going through some old tunes for a secret project and bawl my eyes out. What have I left behind? Who of myself have I left behind?