Mercury is my spirit tonight: god of shepherds and cowherds, thieves and travelers. Aegis and cipher, dancer and guide. A protector of poets, the guard of weights and measures, he who twins cunning and commerce.

The god of thieves brought me something: my last bike was stolen, it’s taken nine months, my new beast I can ill afford–but I feel like I have wings, truly, flying feet. My little bike is that fast, that light. I have shot around the island these last few days. Today I explored an old mill, from the 1780’s, that used run-of-river waterwheels to power machines to make flour, nails, wool, and an assortment of other goods I can’t remember. Out in the far-flung corners of the island, between the condominium towers and residential streets, are remnants of eighteenth century villages. Stone houses set back from the streets; a waterwheel collapsed in the river –I love how in Quebec the discarded, reintegrated pieces of past centuries co-exist with the countryside, not remarkable unless you look.