Two coins

All be honest here, I'm depressed again. No denial this time. The up-and-down is still there, but a shadow of the down is mercilessly ever-present. Melodramatic? Me? Probably. But what's there is there.

Still, I manage, somehow, to find beauty in many things I encounter in the dark.

It was a queer, sultry summer, the summer they electrocuted the Rosenbergs, I don't know what I was doing in New York...

I kept hearing about the Rosenbergs over the radio and at the office till I couldn't get them out of my mind. It was like the first time I saw a cadaver. For weeks afterward, the cadaver's head--or what there was left of it--floated up behind my eggs and bacon at breakfast...and pretty soon I felt as though I were carrying that cadaver's head around with me on a string, like some black, noseless balloon stinking of vinegar.

--Sylvia Plath, The Bell Jar