The pink diamond pinned to the cork noticeboard once used to be paper and sticky tape. Just the right sunrise can change it considerably. You’d tell your daughter all about this but lately she’s been needing much longer sleeps, her legs lengthening right in front of you the other day at the beach. By the time she’s up, this latest disturbing wind might have settled some, but it’s doubtful. Lately the moon’s been in the sky at all hours, even where the blue’s the brightest, reminding you of the neglected boy living alone in a lighthouse, surrounded by loneliness, and no pink diamonds. Soon you intend to get him into space aboard a rocket ship. But first some porridge, then the usual coping with the persistent winding and shouting thoughts to do with your dire financial management abilities. Then the first cicadas waken. Walls crumble and fall. Jewels abound.