It’s the turning of the seasons, and moving in to the turning of the year. It’s the perfect time for that weird creature, germinating in the undergrowth one weekend that might have been last days, born in a pandemic that might have been (might be) end times, of intermittent fluid states of life and death and points between and to the side, often sleeping, mostly zombie, made of hundreds of flickering images that have been haunting my cloud storage for forty-two months now.

The Dendromorphoses are back: dendromorphoses.com

We start with a member of Sciuridae.

Joining them soon, kin from Mustelidae.

It’s not really a bestiary. Or maybe it is. Or rethinking what bestiaries and beasts are, creatures and creative writing and reading and thinking and looking, in another return of an undead—undying, unkillable—thing: curiosity. We’ll see, adventurously albeit meandering in a relaxed, slow, contemplative, whimsical way. Glasses off, eyesight in its natural state, squinting and snuffling around at ground-level.