May 22nd, 2012 | General, Memory, Politics, Popular Culture, Travel, visual arts
Yesterday as we walked through Grūtas Park, my Dear One halted and said, “Hear that? The cuckoo?” I listened and heard twitters and warbles and caws, but no cuckoo. “It’s just like a clock—can’t you hear it?” No, I couldn’t. But later on, back at Romove Homestead, I...