Wrapped still in thoughts of status and its role in daily life.
Here’s the thing: when you are biking out here, in the Midwest (as I was today), it is oh so easy to miss the dear. You look to the side and you see a field of spent corn stalks or maybe dry grasses. Brown stuff, you say. No, a dear, I say.
[I'm right, aren't I? There is a dear, isn't there?]