It’s been a long day, so tonight no updates, no news. A picture and a poem instead.
Epitaph on a Tyrant
Perfection, of a kind, was what he was after
And the poetry he invented was easy to understand;
He knew human folly like the back of his hand,
And was greatly interested in armies and fleets;
When he laughed, respectable senators burst with laughter,
And when he cried the little children died in the streets.
Â — WH Auden