of the variety in which I just think all day, I suddenly realize at the end of it. This was not one of those days. It could have been: I woke up from a dream in which was Matthew Buchinger, “The Little Man of Nuremberg” as he called himself — though this was “my” Matthew Buchinger and not anything like the self-portrait depiction here. I would have liked to have spent some more time with the dream, the feelings of the dream and what all might have come from and/or with that, what has long faded into only some vague remembrance that that’s who was in the dream and there was a sense of delight involved. And in the clear light of day, an acknowledgment that sure, this must have been prompted by my picking up from the console in the living room last month’s issue of Cabinet Magazine, which has a story on miniature writing I noted while leafing through it, as I rued that this month’s issue has already arrived.
This image comes from Wikipedia, where you can also see a close-up of the miniature writing in the curls of Buchinger’s hair.