My biggest fear, says the nine-tailed fox, is dying a slow agonizing death in a wasteland, away from the one I love. Watching this k-drama, I think, yes, that would be my fear as well, for loneliness is devastating. But my cat chooses to jump on me then, and begins to purr. How could I be lonely?

One of the best things about living where I do are the horses I can see grazing from my high windows. They are past the small line of wetland, on a farm that has recently become condominiums, though the owner decided to keep the horses. I haven’t seen the horses for a few days and worry they have been moved elsewhere. A neighbor assures me they are still there. It is small good thing to see, horses grazing.

It is late October, and I decide to buy discounted blue lobelia for my balcony. They might last another month. The fuchsia stills blooms, as dies the stray nasturtium and morning glory. The hummingbirds have fled for warmer temperatures. I will turn 63 soon, though I still feel like decades younger, —nostalgic as well. I saw Madonna on her Blonde Ambition tour—I had a T-shirt from that show once. Sunday I will watch a movie of the Taylor Swift Eras show.

In my teens, a prophetic friend warned me to gather today’s rosebuds—was it a line from a French poet? I confess regrets for not saying yes when asked out decades ago by various people I met. A man appeared at a farmer’s market once in Boulder to offer his umbrella to me, and asked if I wanted to join his friends for lunch. Feeling shy, I declined, but twenty years later, I wish I had joined him. Bus stop was one of my favorite songs after all, and I did not see the romantic umbrella trope in front of me! Is loneliness a choice limited by fear? Does fear make us choose lonliness—fear of choosing unwisely?

Winter thoughts.

Still, the cat.

And I just saw a horse.

As I write this, a war is killing hundreds of children. Families are broken, people are missing, and nothing was what it was a few days back. I read the news, which is so new and disturbing I have not yet reached the point of numbness, the automatic protective measure of a thinking brain. Politics is on the stage, while the people get trampled.

I have lately been watching a historical Korean drama, The King’s Affection. If you want to watch it, be warned that this essay will contain spoilers. It is a drama of gender politics, in which a man fully declares his love for another man, suggesting that love simply is love, and is not reliant on heterosexual trope. It is also about the very different values placed on a woman’s worth in society, as well as the strict caste system that subjugates those who have no wealth or status. I binged through the first twelve episodes of this twenty-part serial, until I reached the very horrific plot twist in which a character who has finally been able to taste freedom for the first time, if not happiness, is forced to once again become indentured to the political manipulation of the kingdom.

I have already cried my way through these twelve episodes, as well as laughed, but I am wondering whether I will continue this drama. True to form,I googled the ending this very night. I will continue watch it, most likely, swayed by the beauty of the actors, and because on the whole, I like to complete things.

Why am I writing about this, other than it is my latest obsession? I think we escape life in many ways, seeking distraction from time, the way hours divide our days. My day is defined by when I drink coffee, snd when I have dinner. Both lets my body relax in the knowledge of the routine, the expected. Lunch is never so forgiving—usually a scramble in the day.

Watching these serials with subtitles lets me absorb the audio thrill of another language, and some food culture. I become enchanted as well.