I thought of this picture as I passed a local bar in the rain on the way home tonight. Two years ago at this time of year I was the crazy American woman (who allowed everyone to believe she was English, since she's a coward) staying in a farmhouse apartment in Brittany for a week. I'd just finished a European tour getting feedback on my product of the time, which hadn't gone so well. I was a bit depressed; and at night I thought someone or something was moving boxes around in the room overhead -- which was locked and seemed to be just a crowded storeroom when I finally peeked through the keyhole during the day. Muscular squirrels?