Back when I was in marching band, I learned a valuable skill: how to mark time. Keep stepping. Keep stepping when you're not moving. Keep stepping to keep a rhythm. Keep stepping until you get some directions. Keep stepping--quietly, quietly, restfully, preservingly--until a forward appears. I am marking time. It's not my forte.

This week, a new issue of my professional organization's glossy publication arrived, bearing as its cover image a page from Tom Phillips's A Humument. I don't always feel much love for this particular publication, but for having put Phillips's "treated Victorian novel" back in my imagination, I owe it one. A Humument is a project so fine that it deserves its own post. As do Joseph Cornell's boxes. As do my mother's quilts. (I am marking time.) And so tonight, for your edification, I offer one page from the 1970 Tetrad edition of Phillips's work, which has just come out in its fourth edition. Prowl around his site, why don't you? It's a pretty great place, if you've a meantime to get through.