Homes, like Churches, can be carried with you invisibly. Anyway: I walked an old path this morning -- from 2nd St. to the Peninsula and back again -- but not as old as the path I've walked the last two or three weeks (summer is a time when the calendar is truly a fiction). No pics today: everything stood out but not in a take-my-pic way. Still, I wanted to put something up besides my babble. I worked in a somewhat random way (the text was lounging to my left, atop a few other choice texts) and grabbed up Borges' Selected Non-Fictions . Compounding that randomness I flipped through the book and found one of my old Hogarthian lines (something I miss from the old papyrus and vellum days): I chose what that line and its author seemed to be impressed with so many years ago for my blog entry. The non-fiction piece from Borges (should we even stoop to categories for his work) is titled "A Grandiose Manifesto from Breton" and the Borges' quote I squiggled follows on h...