The Death of Imagination

Moonlight's peculiar: as a conventional sign it's all softness and romance, but the bright full-moon nights here in NYS are like being lit up by a goddamn searchlight, or worse, like raytraced 3D: all hard highlights and blue-black shadows, while in Cornwall it was never really bright enough to support dramatic action.

I blame overwrought performances of Beethoven's "Moonlight Sonata."