It's been rather quiet around the cabin these past few days in the absence of Nick, Ross, Kurt and the sound of Charlie's paws tap dancing on the wood floor during the middle of the night on his path towards his water bowl. I've occupied my time exploring the many boxes of records that I transported those four hundred and some odd miles from Chicago, watching several films starring the late Charles Bronson's moustache, and semi-begrudgingly attending to client work (reference Al Shearer's character, "I Need Money", from the film How High).

This evening, amongst the stillness of the trees and quietude, disturbed occasionally by the faint call of a nearby bird, the cloud ridden sunset paved way for a hella metal looking transition to the night, the sky seeming to echo the solemn atmosphere of the previous few days.