On the ramparts of Pamplona against all odds/against all evens consumed by the right to risk a life for economic growth and ancillary goods manufactured overseas out of domestic foolish golds just like the later limping saint we were laid low by a cannonball— ours bizarrely christened Covid. It’s been another year of convalescence of injured honor and days stretched out to the point of tearing by tediums and bedsores down the back of our active, aching pride. Lessons still we’re learning the conversion continues in our cautious parties of return flirting dangerously with “normal”. A year like no other the same as all the rest one long chalkboard filled with teachings we ought to copy down for further study before it all gets wiped off tonight making room for tomorrow’s class.